Dragon Queen
by FlameAngel24
Summary: She gained the trust of great beasts as strong as mountains as well as old rivals. In the past, Sauron's influence spread throughout the world and has done so again. And with this rise of darkness, empires will be shaken. Follow the tale of the Dragon Queen and her quest to protect kingdoms and those she loves.
1. Chapter 1

**_Remembering the Past_**

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A hobbit sat upon the sands of a beach letting his fingers pass across the crystalline waters that crawled up onto the shores. This hobbit was quite elderly with snow white hair, and intelligent brown eyes. He was face was wrinkled from age, but one could see that he still hung onto youth in his smile and swift gait. He was staring up at the swirling sky with its blue sky of many colors and dancing clouds.

"Uncle!" A voice called. The elderly hobbit smiled mischievously at the voice for he knew it well. "Bilbo, where are you?"

Bilbo heard swift feet cross the sands and the grumbling of a much younger hobbit. Standing above Bilbo stood his nephew, Frodo. Frodo was smiling in relief at his uncle. Frodo had been worried about Bilbo ever since the two left Middle Earth to come to the Undying Lands. However, Bilbo saw no point in Frodo trailing after him when he was perfectly fine on his own.

"Uncle, Lady Galadriel has been looking for you!" Frodo scolded. The salty air tossed the hobbit's dark curly hair in his eyes. Frodo sighed in defeat at his hair's ability to toss itself around like a kitten plays with string. "Never mind, you're clearly fine where you are."

Bilbo let out a hearty laugh at his nephew's defeat. Frodo came to sit beside Bilbo, who tilted his head curiously at Frodo. The lad had been busying himself with the elves as of late, learning their customs and meeting many new ones. One that Frodo had met recently was the father of another Bilbo had met long ago.

"So, Frodo, how fares Lord Finrod?" Bilbo asked after much silence.

Frodo's bright blue eyes widened, and he sighed, "He is beginning to become nervous. He fears that she won't come back to Valinor. Bilbo shook his head a bit before Frodo laughed. "Say, could you tell me the story of how she came to have the name _'Dragon Queen'_?"

Bilbo ruffled Frodo's hair. "Frodo, my lad, you know that story like the back of your hand," Bilbo replied grabbing a small fist of sand and letting it run through his fingers.

Frodo drummed his fingers on the sand impatiently; he was thinking, Bilbo could see it in his eyes. "Then, how about the story that I never got to know really well… The one about her traveling to and fro through Eastern countries while I traveled with Sam to Mount Doom," Bilbo's eye brows shot up in alarm at the request. "Don't you have all of her letters and such?"

"I do, yes that I do. Why that one, if I may ask?"

"Coruwen was such an odd elleth. She was awfully stubborn for an elf, or from what you've told me."

Bilbo wagged his finger at Frodo. "Now, I may have exaggerated a smidge on that fact. However, she didn't earn the respect from the dwarves just because she traveled to Erebor, let me tell you!"

"Please Uncle, just this once!"

Bilbo glanced over his shoulder at the tall, cream white buildings before standing using his cane. Frodo and Bilbo walked together back to his room that was attached to a balcony. Bilbo instructed Frodo to find the purple leather book he kept underneath his bed for safe keeping. Well, he _actually_ kept it under there so no one would find it; even himself if he forgot where he put it. Frodo popped back up with the purple book in his hands.

Bilbo opened it to reveal a page tilted 'Dragon Queen', in his finest penmanship. A smile creased his face and brightened his eyes at the sight. Beneath the title was a small dragon with curled ram horns that was fast asleep sitting on top of a blade's empty sheath.

"Are you ready?" Bilbo asked, flicking his gaze up to Frodo's. Frodo nodded overzealously at Bilbo, who laughed at the sight. Frodo loved his uncle's stories, no matter how long they were. He would forever remain a child in that respect. Bilbo sat down in an armchair and flipped to the first page and smiled. "Let's start on the date**: **June 15, 3018**. **Shall we?"

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**_A/N: A few things to note before we start this adventure: _**

**_-Flames or negative comments of any kind are not tolerated in the review section. Please, be considerate. If you have an issue, PM me, please. _**

**_-Constructive Criticism is welcomed, but you feel as if it may come off to negative; please send me a PM. _**

**_Now that is all cleared up, I you all enjoyed this beginning chapter. _**

**_Please review. _**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Many Meetings**_

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_June 15, 3018. The Great Years_

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An elleth stood before the stone halls of The Elvenking holding the reins of a rambunctious mare in her hands. The mare grew weary of standing still for so long, and the elleth sympathized with the creature for she grew tired of waiting for the Wood Elves to show themselves.

Her eyes were watching the forest of Mirkwood around her as she white knuckled the leather reins of the mare in her slender hands. There was an air of uncertainty here that she did not approve of. In her uneasiness, she tightened one hand into her grey dress.

The forests of Mirkwood were dark and dank, causing many to be unnerved by the forest's sheer presence. If one listened close enough, they could hear the sounds of the spiders creeping in the darkness. Translucent spider's silk was threaded throughout the trees with the tiny bones of little creatures strewn within. A creak made her gaze shifted to the mahogany door that stood in her way before the entrance to the halls of the Elvenking.

The mare pulled back against the elleth hard, her whinnies becoming nervous as anxiety burned in her brown eyes. Sharply, the elleth pulled on the reins and then soothed the mare with a gentle stroke of her hand. In the back of mind, a thought stirred as she stroked the mare's soft muzzle. How dearly she wished to have her old stallion back, but sadly he had passed as of thirty years ago after age had taken him.

The sounds of boot heels clicking stone drew the elleth's attention at last to see another elleth with long, curly auburn hair standing in the doorway with her hands pressed up against the door in an attempt to quiet it. She wore a dress of cream white with a light blue apron tied around her waist.

"It is good to see you, Lady Coruwen!" The elleth cried from the door as she ran up to Coruwen. The ellith embraced each other with Naruhel beginning to smile brightly. Coruwen pulled away giving Naruhel a ghostly smile. The healer's brown eyes fell on the anxious mare in Coruwen's hands. "Here, I will send for stable boy to fetch this one."

"Naruhel, you really don't have to do that," Coruwen said simply. Naruhel's brown eyes narrowed and Coruwen chuckled at the sight. She looked to the mare, stroking her mane gently "This mare was one given to me by the Beornings, she belongs in the forest."

Naruhel pursed her lips, forming a small pout. "Fine, if you say so." Naruhel agreed.

The two removed the tack from the mare, and in one swift motion the mare wheeled around to bolt back into the forest's dark, murky depths. Coruwen sighed as the two returned to the stone halls of the Elvenking. Her heart was heavy with pent up stress that could not be released; she was thinking of the looming darkness in the South as of late. Sauron had pledged himself known not too long ago, and it struck fear into many. She would often gaze into the South and see bright, golden light shining forth. Now, all she saw was a sigil of black wreathed in amber fire and it spoke in a crude language chanting it to any that would bear its wrath. It unnerved many if they thought about it.

Naruhel's gait was swift as she passed down a stone corridor that was only lit by torches. Coruwen had been to Mirkwood many times before, but now it seemed darker than unusual. The threat of Dol Guldur laid to the south and the strained ties with the Beornings were making it hard on the elves of Mirkwood. There had been news that the creature Gollum had come into the possession of the elves with the aid of Aragorn, heir of Isildur.

"They have been waiting for you since noon," Naruhel stated as she halted before a wooden door that led to the Elvenking's study. Coruwen shared an uneasy nervous look with Naruhel before the healer gave her a forced smile. "Legolas and Himon are with him."

Coruwen nodded slowly, reaching for the door knob. "I will return to you, my friend." Coruwen assured her. "It is my place as an emissary to do this."

"I understand," Naruhel replied with a bow of her head.

Coruwen's stomach turned at the namesake. Her gaze was cast back at the swaying auburn hair of Naruhel as the healer retreated back to her work. As she placed her hand on the knob, a loud curse was heard followed by incoherent muttering. The voice was deep and firm, holding a great sense of command; the voice belonged to Thranduil. Whatever had forced his anger made her slightly curious, yet nervous. She gently taped on the wooden door causing a low, rapid whisper to arise from within. It seemed silly to her that one would whisper amongst elves knowing that all possessed sharp senses.

"Enter," Thranduil's voice addressed coolly.

Coruwen turned the knob of the door and pushed it open, revealing Legolas and Himon. The latter was looking at her curiously, while Legolas had his attention held on his father. Thranduil sat behind his desk with his hands folded in a steeple covering his mouth. His dark green eyes brightened a bit at the sight of her.

"Many greetings, Lady Coruwen," Himon said with a sly smile. His hair was blacker than pitch with a braid behind his ear. He had a chiseled face with a strong jaw and defined cheekbones. He wore silver banded armor engraved with climbing ivy vines with two star clasps holding a dark green cloak onto his shoulders.

"The same to you, General Himon," Coruwen replied. She curtsied to Thranduil, who sat back in his chair allowing his slender hands to drop to the flat surface of his desk. In his eyes, she saw an unspoken relief. "Elvenking, it is good to see you."

Thranduil, like his son, possessed strong features in his fair face. He wore a robe of mossy green over a fine silver doublet. He sighed under his breath, sweeping a hand back to cover his mouth. Coruwen sensed his trouble; it was massive and swirling like a great maelstrom around him.

"Lady Coruwen," Thranduil said coolly. "Please sit, we have much to discuss." He gestured to an open chair beside Himon, which she took and folded her hands in her lap. Once settled, Himon began to open a black cylinder, sliding out a roll of parchment tied with a small red ribbon. Thranduil glanced at his desk and then Himon as his general gave him a hurried look. The Elvenking sighed to himself, beginning to pull certain objects off of his desk allowing his general to spread the map across the desk. The map depicted Mirkwood in great detail with the outposts and patrol areas lined out in black ink and far towards the south red circled began to appear.

Coruwen saw the king's shoulders tighten as the map rolled onto his desk. Himon leaned over the map, tapping different circled areas within the confines of Mirkwood.

"We have had casualties on the South Eastern borders from Spiders and Orcs. They have carried off men into the wilderness and when searches go out they find nothing but empty cobwebs full of bones, skin, and clothes," Himon stated grimly. "I have also received word from the patrols near the mountains have been seeing goblins late at night."

"Are they taking anyone yet?" The King inquired tapping a red circle nearest the mountains to the direct South of his halls. Himon cleared his throat and flexed his gloved hand.

"Yes, they have carried off an elleth and ellon during their scouting missions. Both were killed, throats cut cleanly with a poisoned knife," Himon replied. Coruwen's heart jolted painfully at the image growing in her mind of two bodies, limp and lifeless with one red cut across their necks.

Thranduil shook his head as he rubbed his temples. "This is getting ridiculous."

Coruwen glanced over at Legolas, who was watching his father with the same passive expression the king wore. His grey eyes flicked up to her blue ones for a second, and then back down at the map. Her stress only bloomed more when Himon spoke of the shadow brooding in the old fortress of Dol Guldur.

"Are you saying the Nine have appeared?" Legolas asked shortly.

Himon sighed, "We have heard their screams echoing out in the night. Their vicious pining for the Ruling Ring, but it has been lost to the world for many years."

"Unless it has been found; what does the creature say?" Coruwen asked. All three men turned their gazes upon her, staring at her in complete disbelief. "What does Gollum say? Does he still ramble on about nothing?"

"He grumbles on about a thief stealing his _'precious'_. The creature is little to no use," Himon snarled. Coruwen felt a twinge of anger flow through her, but it died down like a fire being snuffed out by a sudden burst of wind. She knew that Gollum would speak to people, but it getting the information out of him that seemed to be the trick. "I've tried everything in my ability besides beheading the creature to force him to speak."

"Calmness, Himon," Thranduil soothed putting up a hand. His green eyes flicked over to Coruwen's and she saw that he had an idea in mind. "Lady Coruwen, you must know ways besides torturing this creature that will make him speak."

"I do not, Elvenking. If I did, I would have offered it up all ready. Gollum is mentally unstable, and thus be treated as such. I see no other way of treating the issue." Coruwen stated flatly. Himon glared at her. "If you are going to glare at me, General, then by all means glare, but you know that there cutting the creature into ribbons is not the sensible way."

"Sensible? That creature is not sensible, if we killed it, it would grant it peace," Himon snarled.

"Himon, calm down," The Elvenking warned.

Her eyes fell on a slightly angered Himon, who was controlling his anger by flexing his hands behind his back. Himon took his leave of the three and started to plan his way of getting information out of Gollum. Coruwen saw relief pass in both the prince and king as soon as Himon departed them. Her confidence fell when her eyes fell on the faces of the two ellyn with her. Thranduil was thinking and Legolas was looking to his father.

"He seems rather impudent as of late," Coruwen said, drawing the attention of the two. Her voice was quiet, yet loud enough to make them look to her. Thranduil nodded slowly and Legolas met her gaze. Both were oddly silent, and to her it felt strange. As if something was the matter. Her mind wandered to Gandalf for a moment and in her thought process, she asked, "Have you seen Mithrandir lately?"

"We have, he was heading for the West to see an old friend," Legolas stated. Coruwen nodded, knowing why Gandalf ventured off to the West. A certain hobbit that most knew quite well; she had not kept in touch with the hobbit, but Gandalf did whenever he had the spare time. She mentally smiled at the thought of Bilbo, and she glanced over at Legolas. She saw Legolas' eyes darken as his tone became grim. "Mithrandir spoke of an item that one of them possessed. What the item is, we have no idea."

"Would you happen to know what lies in the West, my lady?" Thranduil inquired. Coruwen shook her head; she had not seen Bilbo in a long while and knew not if he possessed an item that Gandalf would be curious about. She took wave of gold that had strayed onto her shoulder and curled it with her finger in thought. What would be in the West that Bilbo would have?

"If I did, I do not remember. It has been thirty years since I last saw that old fox," Coruwen replied with a small smile. "Bilbo was quite good at keeping things hidden, even from Mithrandir and myself."

"I see," Thranduil let out a small chuckle that made her heart lighten. He stood from his desk and came to stand between her and Legolas. In his green eyes, Coruwen saw that he was forcing away the darkness of the issues that plagued him. Clearly, the statement she had made was not what he wanted to hear. It almost seemed as if he was troubled by something else as well. "It is good to see you, my lady." He gave her a small smile while she bowed her head to him. "I apologize for the darkness that was given earlier. The attacks grow more frequent and they are becoming closer to my halls."

Coruwen nodded slowly, for even she felt the king's uneasiness upon the matter. Her aunt and uncle were not as worried upon such matters, but knew they felt the troubles from other parts of Middle-Earth. Thranduil was by far the worst of all of the elven lords; because of the vast land he possessed every single fragment of darkness clung to Mirkwood's underbelly like leeches.

Thranduil started towards a shelf that was lined with several leather books and he pulled one free that had map of the world upon it. His slender fingers wandered along the pages, and Coruwen saw his eyes flick up once or twice whilst he scanned the pages.

"I hate to trouble you on your yearly run, but could you stay for a few days? I know your aunt wouldn't mind," Thranduil said, his eyes never leaving the pages. Coruwen blinked in shock at the request. "Would she?"

Coruwen shook her head. "I do not believe so; she is not the one I would worry about, Elvenking. It is my uncle that one should worry about; he is a man of punctuality." She replied. The remark warranted a small laugh from Legolas that was quickly caught by his father with a scolding glare. His gaze slowly returned to her and the glare subsided to a more relieved expression. Still she could see the stress clouding his eyes and was shortening his temper.

"I agree, Lord Celeborn is what you describe. That aside, will you stay?"

"I will," Coruwen smiled as the king set his book down, his eyes lingering on its dust cover for a few moments before returning to her. The relief that showed in his eyes with her words made her almost forget that he was troubled by Sauron's forces in the southern part if his forest. "That is precisely why I told you I would arrive a few days earlier, It is has been a long while since I stayed in your halls, and I thought it would be a good idea to stay here for a spell."

"I thought that you would say that," Legolas interjected. She shifted her gaze to him, and saw that the darkness that had lingered in his grey eyes had lifted, replaced with a bright glint. The two shared a small smile before Coruwen mentally reminded herself of one thing. Her aunt had given her a message; one that troubled her all the way to Mirkwood from Lothlórien.

"Thranduil, Legolas, my aunt wishes to tell you that you must be cautious," Coruwen stated gravely. Both father and son gave her a puzzled look, but she could not tell them what it meant. Most of her aunt's visions made little sense to her; just as her own sight did. Foresight caused her great trouble. She shook her head a bit, "I do not know what she speaks of, but it was quite recently that she went to her mirror and returned quite unsettled."

Thranduil closed his eyes, leaning against his desk. "The Lady of Light's vision may or may not be true. Foresight is difficult to understand, but I will heed her warning. However, being cautious is what I have done yet more of my people have been slaughtered."

Coruwen shrugged and stood. "I know not of what my aunt speaks of. If I did, I would most certainly tell you." She moved towards the door, not looking at the Elvenking. "I will take my leave of the two of you. Naruhel will be with me if you need me."

"Thank you, Lady Coruwen," Thranduil said as she left his study. She walked down the stone halls and only hearing the sounds of her boots click against the floor. The world's current presence seemed heavy, as if it were taking a breath. Coruwen wound her way towards the Houses of Healing where Naruhel would be, but stopped before the courtyard hearing a faint song being sung by a gentle voice.

The courtyard was fashioned of old weathered stone with the trees towering overhead guarding those below of the sun. Trees roots had torn up the stone tiles in several places making in a hazardous to walk on if one was not paying much attention. Coruwen felt a small bit of sadness bloom in her heart when she did not hear the sound of birds or little creatures. Mirkwood differed greatly from Lothlórien; the only sound was that of the wind toying with the trees' leaves.

The sound of metal grinding upon metal making Coruwen's gaze snap over to the noise. Himon had removed his cloak and some of his armor leaving his gauntlets and chainmail hauberk on. There was a ghostly smirk on Himon's lips as he eyed the ellon before him.

Coruwen turned her attention over to the other ellon before Himon. He looked oddly familiar to her; where she had seen him was the question nagging her mind. He resembled Himon a great deal; the eyes and stature were the same. Yet the ellon had longer hair and his face was a tad thinner and longer. The garb was identical to that of the elves that belonged to the guard that patrolled the forests. The ellon carried twin long knives with the hilt formed a white-blonde wood.

On a stone bench sat Moriel, chief healer of the Houses of Healing and personal thorn in the Elvenking's side. Coruwen recognized her gentle voice singing quietly.

"Come on already," The ellon urged, his cerulean eyes narrowing at Himon. "Are you just going to stand around testing your sword arm?"

Himon arched an eyebrow to the ellon as he taunted him. He rolled his wrist and in a flash of graceful movements, knocked his opponent onto the ground with his long knives clattering a few feet away. Himon stood over him, giving him a cocky smirk. "Try again, cub." Himon assured him, offering him a hand.

Coruwen approached Moriel, her eyes never leaving the two ellyn sparring. Coruwen glanced down once at Moriel to see her nimble fingers stitching an ivory iris flower onto a purple background. Coruwen smiled lightly at the beauty of the stitching. There was another thump, drawing her gaze upward to Himon again. His blade flashed back in a flourish, his hand gripping his elbow. The ellon picked himself up, sweeping his hair out of his eyes.

Steadily, the ellon's voice became louder and louder with protest, but he stood each time. It was amusing, for the ellon became more and agitated thus rendering his focus to nothing.

"Hello, Lady Coruwen," Moriel greeted not removing her eyes from her stitching. "What brings you over here?"

"Hello, Lady Moriel. I was wondering who Himon was training," Coruwen replied curiously, watching the two ellyn spar once the younger one gained his focus. He seemed familiar to her, color of his eyes and his nimble frame were familiar to her.

Moriel released her stitching, looking up at Coruwen in shock. "You do not recognize him?" She inquired. Coruwen eyed her curiously and then glanced up at the ellon once more. She was confused; the ellon was familiar but not enough to where she would recognize him on the spot. The healer's face became brightened by a sly smirk, "Boys, stop for moment! Calenfaire has a visitor."

Coruwen's heart jolted in her chest at the name used. Her blue eyes went wide as Calenfaire and Himon halted their training; both had their attention on Moriel. Calenfaire swept back his hair with his forearm before sliding his long knives back into their sheathes. Himon gave him a gesture to go and Calenfaire came trudging over, slightly out of breath.

"Who is it, sister?" Calenfaire asked, shifting his weight onto his heels. His blue eyes flicked over to Coruwen once and then back at his sister, but then his gaze locked on her. Years had passed since Coruwen had seen him last. Calenfaire smiled before he picked her up in a bone crushing hug making her laugh. Gently, he let her back down on the ground while she began to straighten her skirts back out. She grabbed his shoulder tightly, giving it a small squeeze. "Lady Coruwen, it has been an age." His voice had changed in the sixty years that she had not seen him, but it was just as pleasant and kind.

"You've gotten tall, my friend," Coruwen said. He smiled and chuckled before she released his shoulder.

A loud rustle and bang from within the halls made all four turn their gazes inward to the depths of Thranduil's halls. The bang happened once more with the four elves instinctively wincing at the noise. The noise grated on their sensitive ears and made the ellith shiver at the sounds. The bangs rattled throughout the air again followed by a raspy scream.

Himon came to stand beside Moriel, and he growled, "Damn that Gollum. Calenfaire, come with me."

"Yes, sir," Calenfaire replied swiftly. The two darted off into the depths of the halls as the bangs became closer together, and the screams became progressively louder. Coruwen's blood became ice in her veins as she listened to the crashes and bangs that rattled the air. Slowly, they came to a stop leaving the halls deadly silent.

Coruwen and Moriel ventured of into the Houses of Healing where they found Naruhel checking over lists of herbs, humming a song. Coruwen felt her nerves settle down at the sound of Naruhel's sweet voice, and brought her comfort to hear another noise besides the taunting silence.

"You're back," Naruhel laughed. Coruwen nodded to Naruhel, and then the healer's smile fell. "What was that screaming about?"

"It was Gollum," Moriel snarled under her breath. The fingers of the Chief Healer flipped the pages of a list over and over as her grey eyes scanned the contents. She set it down with a small sigh of irritation. "Bloody creature is mad. It takes all the strength my brother has to stay his hand."

Coruwen looked to Naruhel, who was grinding a few herbs into a dust with a mortar and pestle with her brown eyes dark with thought. Naruhel hummed in response to Moriel's remark. "I do not understand why your brother has such a short temper."

"He is not of short temper, moreover he is just hardened by life a bit too much."

"It's called having a short temper, Moriel. I've seen Himon have an outburst," Moriel looked up at Naruhel with anger glowing in her eyes. "He has a short temper. Now, couldn't we try to give Gollum some sort of herbs to force the words out of him?"

Moriel snorted, walking over a small table to set the list down, "He is not in his right mind as it is. Searching through that mind would be like finding a pin in a patch of ferns."

"Never mind my thoughts then," Naruhel quipped as she set the mortar and pestle aside.

Coruwen listened to Moriel and Naruhel bicker back and forth about ways to get information out of Gollum. Her hands wandered through a section of her hair. What was bothering her so much? The uneasiness seemed prominent here, or rather it was concentrated. The door opened revealing Calenfaire holding his hand close to his chest. Moriel was at his side first, but Calenfaire hesitated to give her his hand.

"What happened?" Moriel asked, her voice switching from firm to stern instantly.

Calenfaire extended her hand for her to inspect. "Gollum bit me on the hand." Calenfaire grumbled. Moriel dragged him over to bench where she began to inspect it further. Coruwen caught Calenfaire's gaze and he inclined his head to her. "The King and Prince are awaiting you near Gollum's holding cell."

"Thank you, Calenfaire," Coruwen replied, bowing her head. She departed the healing houses to the lower depths of the halls to the dungeons. The halls were still dimly lit by amber torchlight. They were formed of stone arches with the light casting malformed shadows on the walls mutating with so much as a mouse creeping back into its hole. Echoing throughout the hall was a raspy, throaty voice.

"Precious…" A raspy voice cackled. "The thief stole the precious… Yes… Gollum, Gollum." When he spoke his name it came out like a horrid cough. It made Coruwen have shivers dance down her spine and it only became louder as she came to the side of Thranduil. His face was darkened by the shadows of the torches, and the amber light casted gold veins into his silver-blonde hair. His face was serious as he watched the metal door and listened to the voice within.

Himon slinked out of the holding cell, anger written across his face as he closed the door. "_This_ is only the start of what he does! He has bitten me so many times I lost count and he sits there in the dark, and _rambles,_" Himon snarled as he sheathed his sword.

"I knows, precious. The elf won't leaves us alone..." Gollum whimpered. His voice darkened a great deal, almost as if he were snarling. "They don't understand! The thief, the nasty little Hobbitses… They stole it."

Coruwen's thought pattern halted in its tracks upon hearing that word. "Hobbit?" Coruwen muttered looking up at the door. She shared a cryptic look with Thranduil, and hesitantly took a step forward toward the cell. Her heart tightened as she crept near Gollum, and through the small window she spied lantern yellow eyes staring down at the ground. She could see the outline of his hunched and malnourished form. "Gollum, what did the hobbit take?"

She heard his raspy breath turn towards her as his lantern eyes focused on her. They were bulbous and wide with curiosity almost like a child. She fought the urge to turn away from the creature, appalled by his presence and gaze. The urgency that was surging in her blood was forced away when Gollum halted and squatted down like a stealthy hunter with his head cocked to the side.

"Elf lady does not care…" Gollum hissed turning back around and the firelight caught his ashen skin and protruding spine. She let out a breath before speaking again, trying to keep her voice even.

"No, no, I do." Coruwen replied hastily. In the back of her mind, she chastised herself for her voice breaking. No doubt Gollum had heard it. "I want to know what the hobbit took from you."

"No," Gollum snapped childishly.

Coruwen shifted her gaze up to the dark ceiling in thought; what could she ask of him? What could ask him to make him tell her what the hobbit took? She knew it was a hobbit, but there were many in Middle-Earth and they didn't have time to go running around looking for every hobbit. Her mind then wandered to Bilbo; he had snuck past Smaug without the dragon noticing. Now, she knew hobbits to be quiet, practically mute, on their feet but even Bilbo made noise in the Horde of Thror….

She focused back on Gollum, who had one lantern yellow eye watching her darkly. "Who took your precious?"

"Bagginses, nasty Bagginses, precious."

"A Baggins stole your precious?"

She heard the rattling of chains and suddenly she heard a bang on the other side of the door causing her to jump. A gnarled hand came out of the door swatting the air wildly. She felt a hand grab her and pulled her backward, and a stab of pain made her clench her jaw tightly. The pain in her arm became stronger as the hand tightened and she fell into Legolas' chest.

"Get away from the door, Gollum," Himon warned, his hand snapping to his sword. "You know what happened last time." Gollum snarled and returned back into his cell. Himon's grip loosened on his sword.

"So much for that method, I suppose," Thranduil said defeated. "However, that is closer than any of us have gotten. I suppose we now have a starting point."

Her blue eyes became blurred by tears from the hot pain in her arm. His slender hand loosened from around her arm, but the pain did not cease. She ripped away from him and leaned against the wall. The cool stone up against her arm made the pain die down a bit before she touched it. Her hands had tremors racing through them as she rubbed her upper arm.

"What happened?" Himon asked quietly.

"Ghosts of the past," Legolas said kneeling down to Coruwen's level. Her eyes met his and he took in her shocked state. His voice dropped low, "I'll take you to your room, come."

Coruwen nodded as he offered her a hand. Her heart was beating so loud that it drowned out any other noise that tried to come to her ears. Tremors rattled through her body as she came to rest in her room. Her heart and mind came to rest as the pain in her arm subsided.

"I forgot about your arm, I apologize," Legolas told her. "I thought that it had gone away over time."

Coruwen shook her head, he voice uneven and slightly broken, "It never went away. It has gotten worse as time has gone on." Legolas walked away from her, and she turned her gaze to him. "I am not angry with you. I understand if you forgot."

"Coruwen, tell me, do they still hurt?"

Coruwen ran a hand across her hipline and she shut her eyes. In her mind, she could still feel the jagged teeth of the warg biting in her flesh and tossing her aside as if she were a bone bitten raw. "Yes, they do. All of them hurt."

"Then why do you not fix them?" His voice became firm and she looked up at him to see his face stern. She began to wring her hands, occasionally tugging on the sleeve of her dress.

"There is no cure. Mithrandir did his best trying to fix the scars, and he told me that my left arm would never be the same. The others I carry do not burn as the one upon my arm does."

"I see." Legolas rested a hand upon her gold head, and his fingers ran through it for a second. Coruwen craned her head back so her blue eyes met his grey ones. His gaze was soft as he looked down at her. "I will leave you if you wish it upon me."

Coruwen nodded slowly to him, and he bowed his head to her. She watched him leave and played with her dress's hem. Something was wrong in Mirkwood, and it seemed closer than one might've thought. In the sky overhead, far to the South, darkness churned.

* * *

_A/N: I wanted to thank Cee-Waterbender for the review last chapter! I hope you stick with me and I am glad to hear that you are excited. I hope I don't make you cry in the future chapters I like did with A Marchwarden's Daughter. :) _

**Please Review. **


	3. Chapter 3

_**An Attack from on High**_

* * *

Calenfaire ran a hand through his dark hair impatiently as he watched the dark, murky forest with his brother and fellow elves. A thick layer of mist clung to the ground making it hard for even his sharp eyes to see. He had been sent out on patrol with Himon once before when he had first started under his brother's command but now with the impending forces, the air seemed ungodly heavy. A rustling of leaves and ferns made his gaze snap upward to the trees where silvery cobwebs floated loosely in the wind. His skin began to crawl ever so slightly and his eyes narrowed in an attempt to search through the mist.

"Don't be jumpy, it's nothing," Himon muttered patting his brother on the head. Calenfaire's blood boiled at his brother's teasing. He let out a growl escape his throat as Himon walked toward the noise. The rustle happened again and this time a flash of beady red eyes came to his attention.

"Himon, no!" Calenfaire shouted as the general neared the ferns. Out of the shadows grew a pair of fangs and spindly legs. Calenfaire gripped his knife and threw it at the spider and it hissed in pain rearing back on its legs. The other elves readied themselves as the spider hissed at them. Himon's sword flashed in his vision just above his head, cleaving the spider's thorax spilling sickly green blood upon the ground like rain.

"It was a scout! There are more coming!" Himon snarled withdrawing his sword. Calenfaire's heart jolted alive with a blast of adrenaline as an orc darted through the brush toward his brother. There was no hesitation in his brother's sword as it snapped at the orc piercing it through the heart and withdrawing in one fluid motion. "Get back to the halls, all of you, Go."

"But General-," An elleth interjected.

"I don't care what the king said, go." Himon snapped motioning for the others to run back. "If there are as many as I think, we're going to need more than the five of us."

"Yes sir," The elves replied as they darted back through the brush towards the stone halls. Himon passed beside his brother and he felt his hand pass across his shoulder. Calenfaire followed his brother and hoped to Manwë the spiders weren't anywhere near the halls.

He was sorely mistaken.

The spiders had entered the halls of the Elvenking and the screams proved this logic to be sound. He heard Himon curse as he darted inside and Calenfaire followed. Limp bodies of orcs lie in pools of black blood and were intermixing with the sickly green blood of the spiders. It was sickening to see, and the smell of rotting corpses as beginning to brew in the air. Many bodies of the guards lay in tightly knit webs of silvery spider silk with blood soaking the bottom.

"How did they get past us?" Calenfaire asked in disbelief.

Himon stopped him short as they skidded around a corner. The hiss of a spider made the ellon's blood turn to ice. His cerulean eyes went wide as the sound of its clicking toes drew near. The sound of a blade being unsheathed was quickly followed by a heavy thump. Calenfaire wriggled free of Himon's grip to see Thranduil holding a blade in his hand and it was dripping with sickly green blood. The king's face was a hard mask, and Calenfaire slinked back beside his brother. Himon stood tall before his king, never suggesting he was fighting a battle with terror. The blade of the Elvenking was wiped clean by a piece of cloth, but the king's eyes back filled with venomous hatred when he looked down at the spider before his feet.

"How many are left, my lord?" Himon inquired.

Thranduil's green eyes rose from the body of the spider. "Few remain, but they have killed many." The king replied. "Legolas would know more than I. Both of you go check up on the others and see if anymore were injured. If they are take them to Houses of Healing. If you encounter a spider or orc, kill it."

"Yes, my lord," Himon and Calenfaire said together.

And so, the two of them ran off into the depths of the Elvenking's halls in search of any elves that had survived the attacks. However, in Calenfaire's search through the dungeons in search of stray orcs he found Gollum's door to be busted open and the creature not inside. The creature had been let loose and thus he had escaped during the fray of battle. This bothered Calenfaire a great deal for he knew not what the Elvenking would do if he found out that Gollum had escaped.

Eventually, Calenfaire returned up to Himon's side and gave him the bitter news of Gollum's escape. He could have sworn his brother was going to explode like a volcano, but oddly the general remained quite calm and collected. The two were intercepted by Coruwen as they were returning to Thranduil. Calenfaire saw in her blue eyes a deep fear that he had seen once.

"What happened?" Calenfaire inquired.

Coruwen cleared her throat and he saw her worry come forward. "Naruhel was injured in the fray of the fight. She's currently unconscious." The lady stated gravely.

Calenfaire's heart leapt into his throat at the sound of Naruhel being injured. His hands flexed once and he chewed the inside of his cheek in worry. Coruwen looked between the two and gingerly he felt her cold hand slip into his.

"Go see her, Calenfaire. I will report to the King," Himon stated. Calenfaire's attention snapped up to Himon's and he saw a small smile on his brother's face. The general nodded to his brother and he shifted his gaze to Coruwen. "Keep an eye on my little brother, Lady Coruwen."

"I will, General Himon," Coruwen replied. Her hand tugged on his, pulling him toward the houses of healing. Together the two returned to the house and found Moriel and several other healers busying themselves with people bitten by the spiders or stung by orc blades. Moriel glanced up as Coruwen returned.

"You're needed over there," Moriel ordered pointing an elfling with a beet red arm, clutching it tightly to his chest. Calenfaire's heart went out to the little child since as child he had been bitten by a spider, but not terribly injured. Coruwen tapped his hand drawing his attention upward.

"She's around the corner, second door on the right," Coruwen whispered in his ear. He bowed his head to her as she ran off to help the child. As he waded through the crowd of people he felt his heart twinge in pain for Naruhel. He rounded the corner and halted before the door. He raised his hand to knock, but the door opened, scaring him nearly out of his wits.

"Naruhel you're-," Calenfaire mumbled.

"Awake, yes I am," Naruhel replied shortly. Her auburn hair was pulled up into a ponytail with a few ringlets framing her face, but her brown eyes were stern. Much like Moriel's when she was switching from loving sister to Chief Healer. "Calenfaire, move out of my way."

He opened his mouth to object, but her hand closed over his mouth and he heard her speak. "Do not try and stop me, i have a job to do." She snapped.

Sheepishly, he moved aside and watched her walked down the halls with a newfound swiftness. However, in her gait he saw a hitch in her left leg and it made him wonder what all occurred to her. Coruwen had said she was unconscious… He shook his head at the healer and then returned to find Himon and the king.

* * *

Coruwen felt her nerves race through her as she helped a couple of young elves who had been slashed by an orc blade. One of them was quite coherent and listened to her when she instructed them, but the other was a different story. She swore she was going to have bruises on her shoulders and scratches on her arms from that one. She was no healer by nature, but she was helping the current healers that were being spread thin. She wrapped her gold hair around to rest on her shoulder as she checked on the elfling again.

The child was asleep wrapped up in a cloak, and through the cloak's dark green fabric one could see the cream bandages that bound the child's arm. Coruwen knelt down in front of the child, inspecting the child's arm with ghostly touches.

"Quit squirming!" A woman shouted. Coruwen's attention turned to a female healer struggling with a panicked mother holding her child in her arms. Her heart tightened painfully at the sight of the mother's frightened eyes. It was then that Coruwen saw Naruhel grab the mother's arm to cease her flailing.

How was Naruhel awake after that run in with the spider? Coruwen picked herself up dusting off her dress as she approached Moriel, who was standing off to the side with a blank expression on her thin face. Red flecks dusted the healer's white dress and at the hem of her dress blood had soaked into the white fabric like a sponge. Coruwen glanced up at the Chief Healer, seeing no change in expression or pass of attitude in her grey eyes.

"How is she awake?" Coruwen muttered. Moriel's gaze flicked down and a confident smirk donned her lips. "Moriel, tell me."

"Silly Lady of Lórien, you do not know Naruhel as well as I. She is dutiful to her profession, and will not be stopped by a mere spider bite." Moriel told her, her voice swelling with pride. "That aside, what is a lady of the court doing here?"

Coruwen let her gaze fall on the child she had helped. Her heartstrings were being plucked ever so slightly by the people injured. "I had to do something without Naruhel present." Coruwen replied, causing Moriel to raise one thin eyebrow to her words. "Think of me an idiot, but I know you agree with me when I say that too many people have died because of our ability to not help them."

Moriel nodded gravely. "Yes, but that is the time in which we live in, my lady. Many will die, I can feel it."

"As can I. The feeling of dread grows ever closer, and it grew from a simple fortress long forgotten."

Coruwen and Moriel felt the room become deadly quiet, no screams of people, just the crackle of flames burning for light. The healer patted Coruwen's hand and walked off into a section of the Houses of Healing to attend to the others. The lady's heart sank in her chest as she saw the last flash of Moriel's black hair pass into a room.

"Am I a fool to think this way? To believe what my aunt said; that darkness will devour the world?" Coruwen murmured to herself. Her fingers knitted together, trembling. In her mind, she was scared but could not show it. "I merely doubt myself…"

"That you do," A voice said behind her. Coruwen saw out the corner of her eye, Legolas standing in the doorway. He approached her and rested a slender hand on her shoulder. "Doubt is a fool's attempt at faith. However, you have faith in the world. I can see it in your eyes."

Coruwen shook her head, letting her hair sway making emphasize on her disapproval. "I doubt that which my aunt has told me. She believes darkness could swallow these lands, if left unchecked." She replied.

"That is _if_ it is left unchecked, Lady Coruwen. I highly doubt that will happen."

She turned to face him giving him a stern glance. "That is what I said, but now as I see the death and injured and I cannot help but agree with her." Her voice had not risen in tone, but became reprimanding. The prince had an amused expression on his face rather than one of fear. "What?"

"I will not make your opinion sway, my lady. It is your own mind that will make up the decisions that will mark your path." Legolas' hand slid from its place on her shoulder, and as it lifted she felt a small amount of hope that had grown in her heart fade. She felt nothing. "Follow me."

Coruwen glanced up at him and saw a happy glint in his grey eyes; it strangely lightened her heavy heart. Together the two departed the houses of healing and wound their way through the fray of the stone halls to the outside where upon the fading skyline one saw a flash of vermillion and cream.

"He has been eagerly awaiting you," Legolas said before letting out a whistle. The earth rattled once and before them stood Smaug in all of his young glory. Coruwen placed her hand on Legolas' as the dragon landed in a thump. A smile brightened her face at the sight of the dragon. "Greetings, Smaug."

Smaug spoke in his gravely, rumbling voice. "Hello, my prince."

Smaug had been summoned alongside his mother thirty years ago to keep an eye upon the woodland areas. He possessed scales of the darkest vermillion with his horns the color of red wine and the spines that ran down his back the same color. Steadily, his gold eyes flicked down to the little elves before him and he puffed out smoke from between his teeth.

Coruwen let out a breath at the sight of him; she had forgotten the beauty of Smaug. "Smaug, it has been a long time since I saw you last," She said extending one hand for him to rub against. The dragon rubbed his pointed snout against her hand and she almost jerked her hand away from him. His scales were hot, as if one was touching metal left to warm in the sun too long. She pulled her hand away from his scales when he pulled his head back from her. "Am I to understand you have been behaving for the prince and Radagast?"

"Aye, that I have, my queen," Smaug said swishing his tail tip like a dog. The two elves laughed at the sight as Smaug prided himself in his good behavior. "I kept the forces that launched from Dol Guldur at bay quite easily, if you must know."

Legolas let a small growl. "Speaking of which, they found a way into my father's halls." The prince stated. That caught Smaug's attention rather quickly, and his gold eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Would you happen to know why they were able to infiltrate the halls so easily, dragon prince?"

"I would not," Smaug replied lying down in a patch of crumpled trees. Coruwen noticed it fit perfectly to his large, serpentine frame; just like in the Horde of Thror. The dragon crossed his paws, clicking his talons on the trees. "I vanquished the forces that threatened Rhosgobel and my home in the mountains. I did not think they would sneak past me…"

"How they did it, I know not. But many were injured, including Lady Naruhel, one of your friends."

Smaug growled within his chest making Coruwen glance cautiously over at Legolas. Wisps of gold fire began to slip free of his lips as he pulled them back into a vicious snarl. His talons crunched an old tree in his fury when his eyes flashed with pure hatred.

"Damn the orcs and spiders to the pits of doom!" Smaug snapped his tail, sending a crack through it like a whip. "May their skin peel and their people rot!"

"Peace, Smaug." Coruwen interjected. "It was one attack, we can fix this. All Legolas and I are asking is that you pay more attention to the outlying fortress. Can you do that much?"

Smaug's tail curled back around him and gave her a curt nod. "I will stay here and guard the halls for a spell… Send me away if you desire it." Smaug stated gently, yet one could hear the anger still tinting his deep voice.

Coruwen and Legolas sat at the feet of Smaug for a while, talking to the great dragon upon matters concerning the world. The dragon spoke once or twice, but mostly kept to responding with short rumbles or puffs of smoke. Coruwen smiled at the dragon's presence as he told them of Radagast's recent attempts to keep the other creatures at peace with his presence being known.

"Lady Coruwen!" Calenfaire's voice called. Her attention snapped up to the ellon emerging out of the gate with Himon behind him. She noticed how he tensed up at the sight of Smaug, his cerulean eyes darkening and falling to the ground around him. "The King has asked if you are to be departing for Erebor."

Coruwen stood from Smaug's paw, and placed her hands behind her back, thinking. She nodded slowly, and then chose her words carefully. "If I am not needed here, then I will depart for the mountain kingdom." She said as she glanced back at Legolas. The prince leapt off of Smaug's paw and appeared at her side, his attention held on Himon and Calenfaire.

"Why has my father asked this of Lady Coruwen?" Legolas asked his voice becoming edgy. Coruwen took note of his tone, and her nerves pricked her spine with uneasiness. She did not need his attention currently; it should be focused upon his people.

"The king knows of the Lady Coruwen's place among the dwarves of Erebor, and knows that the Lady Galadriel will desire her to return to Lórien swiftly." The general stated flatly.

"Lady Coruwen, will you depart my forests?" Legolas inquired his tone becoming kind.

"I will," She replied softly. Her gaze did not rise to Legolas', but remained affixed upon the crushed trees and fallen leaves. Something in the pit of her stomach twisted painfully. She did not know what was causing it, but found it to be unnerving.

"Are you sure?" The prince whispered in her ear. Coruwen nodded slowly, and she heard him let out a hiss like breath. Her eyes rose to his fair face, and saw etched concern in it. He straightened his posture out to speak to the two elves before him. "Calenfaire, I want you to accompany Lady Coruwen as she rides to Erebor, understood?"

Calenfaire bowed low to his lord. "I will do that, my lord." The ellon replied. He rose from his bow and retreated into the halls.

"Himon, how many were killed in the attack?"

Himon placed a hand on the pommel of his sword; an ever so slight amount of grief showing in his eyes. Coruwen saw how his face became pale, but he took a deep breath before speaking. "Ten were killed, most were soldiers…" Himon reported.

His voice slightly cracked as he spoke the latter part of his report. Coruwen shut her eyes and let her head drop; her heart began to ache at his words. Smaug's tail brushed against her low back, but it brought her no comfort. For the sting of battle hurts not only family, but the people involved.

"I see…"

The door's groan made Coruwen open her eyes and spy Calenfaire holding two horses by their reins. They were both ready to ride by the looks of them. She blinked in shock at how fast the lad moved. Calenfaire walked up to her to give her the reins of a roan gelding, who greeted her with a happy snort.

"How did you-?" Coruwen asked.

Calenfaire smirked, and before mounting his horse he winked at her. "Secret," He laughed. Coruwen saw him trot off, however something held her still.

"Legolas," Coruwen stated, peeking over the side of the gelding. His head tilted curiously at her as he answered to the sound of his name like a bird. She mentally wanted to hit upside the head for that. "Come."

She ran her hands across the smooth leather of the saddle. A hand pressed itself to her left shoulder and immediately her body shrunk away from the touch. Her eyes rose to search the fair face of the prince, who stood at her right side. As she tried to form a sentence, she felt his hand curl tighter around her shoulder as if he were protecting her. She knew that she was his friend, but she did not desire his protection.

"If anything goes wrong while I am away, tell me," Coruwen muttered as she dipped her shoulder away from Legolas' grip. She pulled herself up into the saddle of the roan horse, looking down at the prince. "I will see you soon enough."

"Be careful, my friend," Legolas said as he backed away from Coruwen. As he watched ride off with Calenfaire a part of his heart wrenched painfully. Himon appeared at his side and a firm hand rested upon his shoulder. Under his breath he muttered, "You are not yourself."

"My lord?" Himon asked. Legolas shook his head, not paying attention to the elf at his side. Much of his mind was distracted, and what caused this he knew not. It was like pullung a rope too tight, it could snap at any second. "Prince Legolas…"

Legolas turned his attention to Himon. "I am sorry about that, General. I was just thinking…" He replied. Yes, he was distracted. Darkness loomed over head and he could do nothing about it. Mainly, he had forgotten how much Coruwen had changed. She was like a mouse now, quiet and secretive. He felt the bones in his fingers crack as he flexed his hands.

"We should probably return to your father, no?"

"Aye that we will."

Legolas turned to Smaug, who was watching him with his golden eyes. He truly cared for the dragon just as Coruwen cared for the daughter of Ancalagon. It was the love of a companion, a pet. The prince approached the dragon, placing a hand on his vermillion nose. Unlike his mother, Smaug radiated heat that rivaled that of summer's own.

"Smaug will you stay here?" Legolas asked patting his nose.

"Yes, little princeling," Smaug replied with a puff of smoke through his nostrils. Legolas smiled, shaking his head at the dragon's use of pet names. "Go on, attend to your people."

"Thank you, Great Dragon," The prince gave the dragon's paw a pat before returning to his father's halls. As he returned to his father, he felt a pang of worry lance through his heart. His people were beaten down because of Sauron's ruthlessness… And there was nothing he could do; he felt helpless. It was unnerving to him, but it could not be helped. Legolas felt a hand pat his head, and he grumbled, "Father."

"You seem distracted, my son," Thranduil stated removing his hand from his son's head. He began to smooth down his hair as he sent a dark glare over at his father. Was he really that easy to read? Maybe it was because of the stress of battle still hung in the air. "If it has anything to do with Lady Coruwen departing, I merely-,"

Legolas glared at his father. "It is not that at all… It is the fact that our people are being slain so easily. I know it bothers you just as much." Legolas told him, his slender fingers interlacing together. Thranduil blinked in shock at his son's words and his jade eyes fell on the floor. "Our people will not survive this way, father."

"I know… I know, and I feel helpless against these attacks that take the lives of many," Thranduil said, his voice dropping to a low whisper "If only _he_ were alive."

Legolas' heart dropped out of his chest cavity at his father's words. Yes, if only… One might've wondered what the king spoke of. Legolas reached over and placed his hand on Thranduil's shoulder, and he could feel his father's shoulders sag a bit at the feeling.

"If only," Legolas muttered.

* * *

Coruwen and Calenfaire passed onto the Desolation of Smaug as darkness fell. The lit town of Esgaroth stood in the distance, but Coruwen would have to forgo that town until she returned from Erebor and Dale. She slid down from the saddle of her horse, feeling her muscles ache seeing as she rode hard for the past few hours. Calenfaire came up to the roan gelding and patted his forelock. She smiled at the young ellon's affection of horses.

"You know this one's name?" Calenfaire asked as he rubbed the gelding's neck.

Coruwen ran a hand down the horse's coarse mane of dark auburn hair. "No, he is awfully humble for a gelding of such young age," Coruwen said quietly, as her hand wandered onto the horse's neck that was radiating a great heat.

"This is Talt, one of the descendants of Del," Calenfaire stated proudly. The horse stomped one shoed hoof on the ground, tossing back his roan head in happiness "See? He likes his name."

"You named him after Falling?"

Calenfaire pursed his lips in a pout, and then muttered low to the horse like it was his child. "Yes…" He mumbled.

Coruwen laughed at his child like ways. Her hands fidgeted with her skirts as she listened to the world around her. Quiet wind carried whispers of trees, and distantly the sound of clamor could be heard from Esgaroth. The Desolation of Smaug had, of course, been burnt black by dragon fire. The more recent effects had been massive bloodshed many years ago, but now green had begun to form once more. The trees were green with leaves, but their bark still black like pitch. In her mind, she could still hear the screams of people falling before the swords and axe of the goblins.

"Coruwen?" Calenfaire inquired as he held onto Talt's reins. Coruwen shifted her gaze to him, and saw mild curiosity in them. Her hands dropped her skirts and rested on her low back as she waited for his question. "Are we going to see Freya in Erebor?"

"Yes, we are. She has been under the care of Dís and Dain while I am away," Coruwen gave him a smile. "Freya has been returning to the Parched Heath in the North to be with her mate, Heimdall."

"Heimdall? Who is that?"

Coruwen faint, thoughtful smile, "He is the last of his kind; just as she is. Many said he was a myth, many thought he was a scourge. He was neither of those things; he is the keeper of the gates of the Ered Mithrin. He is called the Emerald Gate Keeper, or simply Keeper."

Calenfaire hummed, shifting his weight around in the saddle a bit, "A myth, huh? I never thought I'd meet another one."

* * *

**A/N: Oh my goodness, so many followers. Thank you! :) **

**Answering Reviews Time: **

**ST6-Shok: Thank you, this review is going to help me a lot in the long run. At least, i didn't too little. I can always go back and a delete a few things here and there. I agree with you, I too am picky about certain stories. Hope to hear from you again! **

**Glorelwen(Guest): I love to hear that other people love this story! To answer your question: Maybe... Kinda... I can't tell you. **

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**Please Review!**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author Review Answers: **Glorelwen: I am so glad to hear that there are others who agree with me about Smaug. Dragons are just another creature in Middle-Earth, sadly there were wiped out after the great golden beast. I will make sure you're point is marked on the board... Which I need to find.. _

_ST6-Shok: I am trying to find the happy medium right now with my description, and we don't see the dragons, or rather Smaug, for a good chunk of the story. I kinda wanted people to remember him, but they may forget him... Who knows. I Am going say this, I suck at writing fight scenes, no matter how much I focus my brain. Plus, from what I read somewhere, female elves are not typically fighters.. _

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_**Freya**_

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Coruwen and Calenfaire halted before the skirt of Erebor when the sunrise's wheat gold aura touched the horizon in the east. The blue grey stone slope of Erebor casted a shadow upon the small town of Dale making it appear tiny. Coruwen glanced over her shoulder before clicking her tongue for the horse to move onward up the slick slope. The horse whinnied nervously as her hooves touched the slick surface of the rocks. Coruwen turned her horse around, in search of the road that led from Ravenhill to the gates. Once found, the duo headed up the slope that way rather than clamber up the slick slopes.

Great Dwarven warrior statues stood tall, clad in full armor with axes pointed at the ground, protecting the great gates of Erebor. The gates themselves were fashioned of steel, but decorated with bronze and silver. Risen engravings depicted a long wyrm settled on the misty peak of Erebor with fire spilling from his maw onto the seven stars that crowned the mountain. The dragon and stars were outlined in silver and the mountain formed of tarnished silver. Above the gates was a catwalk with dark silver banners depicting the same crest that was upon the door.

A gruff, gravelly voice shouted down at them, "Who's down there?"

"Coruwen, Daughter of Finrod. Open the gates!" Coruwen ordered firmly.

Calenfaire let out a snicker as the dwarf grumbled his disapproval when the gates began to creak open. Coruwen shook her head at how stubborn the dwarves of this kingdom were. Had she not come to this kingdom before it grew to its greatness; they might not have let her through.

The gates allowed the two elves inside of the mountain and their horses were left outside. The walkway before them was carved from the very rock and engraved with swirling knots that climbed all the way up to a flight of stairs where two figures stood. The walls of Erebor were polished smooth allowing natural light to reflect off of them and into the lower levels the lights of the torches rose like amber tendrils caressing the walls. The clamor of pickaxes and song rose up from the deep.

Coruwen turned her gaze upward to the flight of stairs where the figures stood and heard heavy footfalls upon stone. The first figure was a bear like dwarf, his beard was snow white and plaited with steely eyes. This dwarf was Dain Ironfoot, son of Nain, and King under the Mountain.

The second dwarf was a woman with wavy, coal black hair and a bright face. She held herself high, the bearing of a king's daughter. The only daughter of Thrain, and the only remaining of his line, Dís.

"Hail Great Dragon Queen!" Dain boomed as he walked up to her. His voice was rough and deep like the mountain he ruled. A small pang of nostalgic pain shot through her heart. Coruwen placed a firm hand on Dain's shoulder and he gripped her small wrist in his hand. "Here for the monthly round?"

"That I am, my lord. I have also come to see my Dragon if she is at home." Coruwen replied.

Dain scoffed and grumbled the word snake before speaking, "Aye, she's here. I don't like the fact that my cousin thought it'd be a good idea to let her stay! Come, let me show you around."

Coruwen and Dain walked side by side as he spoke to her about the recent attacks from the Easterlings. Dain became quiet when she asked about the Black Riders that Mithrandir spoke of. A rather strange occurrence for the dwarf king, for he was quite loud by nature. When she asked about any recent appearances around Dale or Erebor he answered.

"Aye, heard one just the other day. Scared most of the young ones half to death, but we only saw it pass us by." Dain told her. The dwarf king shifted his weight onto his heels and he curled his fingers around the weight of his ax. Coruwen let a breath escape her lungs that became a deep sigh. "What is it?"

"Did the Rider have anything on him that would make him different?" She inquired.

Dain's brow furrowed in thought. "He had a Rhunic sword at his side," Dain replied gravely. Coruwen's blood turned to ice in her veins when he said a sword from Rhun. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Very much so. That Rider was Khamul, an Easterling King who fell for the power of the Ring. He is the left hand of Sauron while the Witch-King is the right." She knitted her fingers together behind her back letting out another sigh. "If Khamûl is alive and has been seen this far east, then Sauron might think about attacking here."

"Sauron proclaimed himself known not too long ago. He must have called them back to Mordor through Dol Guldur," Calenfaire stated. Coruwen and Dain stared at Calenfaire with fear in their eyes. "If Khamûl rides here, then where is the Witch King?"

"Only Mahal knows that answer, lad," Dain said ruefully. He looked at Coruwen and gave her an assuring nod. However, she didn't believe the king's true intent. Tensions were high as of late, no matter where you went on Middle Earth nowadays. Coruwen felt it in the air even in her home of Lothlórien where her aunt's ring, Nenya, protected them. "Well, let's go see Freya, shall we?"

"Yes, let us," Coruwen muttered as Dain walked down a flight of stairs that led to a wide stone pathway with its grey face marred by white scratches and scrapes. This platform was low in the mountain's foundations and one could see straight up to the pathway that led to the Hall of Thror. Towering high above them stood a great door. Yes, a door, not a particularly glamorous door in comparison to the front gates though. It _was_, however, engraved with vines and ascending dragons with fire leaping from their frozen lips.

"Open up the back gate!" Dain shouted. A young dwarf bounded over to a lever and pushed it down with a heavy crack. Metal chains shook to life when gears tumbled opening large, cylindrical locks on a towering door that was fashioned to appear like the back of Erebor. Dain came to her side and grinned ear to ear with pride. "This is our finest work yet…"

Calenfaire slinked behind Coruwen, glancing down at Dain. "What is it?" He asked meekly.

Dain let out a hearty laugh. "This, my boy, is our Dragon Door. Took us seven months just to cut the hole in the mountain, and I think the very first Thrain turned in his grave as we did it. Then we measured Heimdall and from there put up this fine door for the Lord and Lady Dragon."

Coruwen let a faint smile come to her lips. "Impressive…" She said as the door let in natural light into the dim halls of Erebor. "And you know Freya and Heimdall are here how?"

"The time of year and current month," Dain replied, his hands curling around the blade of his ax. "Simple timing is all."

The doors stood open revealing a large plain that extended far up to the Grey Mountains and Easterling territory. Above the Grey Mountains lies the Parched Heath, birthplace of all dragons. Freya and Heimdall reside there as Lord and Lady of the Heath. A great boom was heard and before them stood a great dragoness with leathery wings unfurled from flight.

This dragoness was Freya, mother of Smaug the Golden, and Daughter of Ancalagon the Black. She was gifted with scales of the deepest shade of red, almost he the color of rosewood with the tips of the scales colored black. Her head was slender and was remarkably close to that of a horse with curled black ram horns.

Behind Freya stood a male dragon, tall and long with a wedge shaped head with curved, scimitar like horns colored like peat moss. His scales were the color of flawless emeralds with crescent spines all along his spine that were the same color as his horns. The male dragon was named Heimdall, the Emerald Gate Keeper of Ered Mithrin and Freya's mate.

"Greetings, Dear ones," Freya welcomed in her endearing, sultry voice. Freya's eyes searched the room and landed on Coruwen. The elleth smiled as Freya's tail tip swished happily. "My little elleth has returned to me. Thank Yavanna."

"It is good to see you as well, Freya," Coruwen replied as she walked up to Freya's side. Heimdall watched her with mild curiosity, and he simply curled up the sides of his lips in greeting. "Hello, Lord Heimdall."

"Well met, Little Elleth," Heimdall greeted. His voice was like smooth music; he was gifted with a silver tongue with hints of pleasant tones. He touched his nose to Coruwen's outstretched hand and he felt cool like feeling the mists of waterfall. He craned his head away from her and Freya bumped muzzles with him letting out soft rumbles in her broad chest. "Dear One, why have you returned?" Freya asked.

Coruwen smiled up at her dragon. She had known Freya for sixty years, and all of it came from her adventure with Bilbo and the company to this great mountain. Calenfaire was behind her as she walked up to the mighty feet of Freya and Heimdall. She caught the anxious look he cast over at her when she sat on Heimdall's paw. Most everyone who did know Freya or Heimdall would assume that they would eat them. However, the two dragons were very docile and found lazing around in the sun more enjoyable than burning villages.

"I have come to see the duties of Dain and the dwarves. Why have you come?" Coruwen replied. Her voice became slightly firm when she spoke to the dragons, just like she had done all those years ago when she spoke normally.

Heimdall spoke instead of his mate. "We have because of the same reason, my lady."

Dain snorted and turned away not believing his ears. Coruwen assumed that he didn't particularly like the fact that others felt the need to watch over him. She ran a hand across Heimdall's paw. "I see. I did not know that the dragons of the Grey Mountains watched over the dwarves of Erebor."

Heimdall chuckled, "Few do, my little elf."

"I see, and then you two know that the Dark Lord's watchers have returned to Middle Earth and ride here and there?"

Freya let out a grumble in her chest as Coruwen mentioned the name of the Nazgûl. The rumble bounced off of the very walls, sending chills up the spines of many. The lips of the dragoness were curled back revealing her teeth that were long like broadswords.

"Accursed lines of Men that taint the very ground with their presence!" Freya roared. Coruwen covered her ears as Freya's roar beat against the walls of the Dwarf Kingdom like thunder over the plain. Her ears felt as if they would burst from the pressure of Freya's roar, but a small rumble was heard. Heimdall nudged Freya's jaws closed with a simple bump of his head. Freya's tone dropped to a bitter low tone. "Damn them all, damn Men's lust for power."

"It will be fine, Freya. The wraiths have not been seen riding in the eastern countries, but more towards the West and South," Coruwen soothed. Secretly, she was unsure if the wraiths would appear or not. "Since Sauron made himself known shortly after Dain took the throne, the world has been hectic. Many sightings of Wild Men and Orcs have been sighted pillaging lesser cities."

"Where have these been?" Dain asked. He stepped into the circle that Coruwen had formed with Freya and Heimdall with a grimace on his face. No doubt he was uneasy hearing about this. Coruwen sighed, wringing her hands in worry. "Lass, tell me."

"They have been sighted in the Misty Mountains, near Rohan, Osgiliath, and Gondor." She replied quietly. Her heart was heavy talking about the slaughter of people in the South. They were becoming smaller and smaller as the days dragged on. Dain's hand gripped the blade of his axe tightly, so tight that Coruwen could hear the leather of his gloves wearing down. "This does not mean that they will come here. Sauron knows the power of the dwarves and Men of Dale. He will not get far here."

Dain snarled, "If he so much as breathes wrong on my kingdom I will slaughter every last one of his followers with my own weapon!"

"Calmness, Great King," Heimdall soothed. The Emerald Keeper flicked his tail back and forth pensively. "If they threaten your walls, or anyone under the care of myself or Freya, let them know that they will have second thoughts about attacking twice."

"Emerald Keeper of the Gate, indeed," Dís laughed. The princess put her hands on her hips with a grin on her face. "We protect our city well enough, but to have the faith of dragons on our side is truly a great gift."

Heimdall let out a chuckle that seemed more like a hum than a laugh. "Yes it is a gift, little princess of Durin."

Coruwen and Calenfaire departed Erebor at nightfall following Freya and Heimdall as they departed to the far North. They returned to Mirkwood at noon the next day. They had stopped to see Brand in Dale, and check on Esgaroth before returning to the halls of the Elvenking. The halls were still in bit disarray, but nowhere near as terrible as it once had been. When she reported to Thranduil, she was told that Legolas had left to search for Gollum in the depths of the woods with Himon and a few more generals.

* * *

Calenfaire remained by Coruwen's side until orders were given to do otherwise. The two sat outside in the main courtyard and the silence was thick in the air. It seemed that every moment was dragging onward at ungodly slow pace. Calenfaire twirled one of his knives in his hand, watching the light catch the glimmer of silver and then fade away.

"When are you returning to Lórien?" Calenfaire asked sheathing his knife back into one of the holsters on his back. Coruwen glanced up at him with sadness etched in her blue eyes. He tilted his head to the side in curiosity when she returned her gaze back to her hands. "I-I'm sorry for asking."

Coruwen shook her head. "You have every right to know, Calenfaire." She said. Her voice was hollow but gentle. She reached over to take his hand in hers, and he felt the cold coming off of her hand. It was so cold he placed his own hand over hers. "I plan to return in a week."

"Do you fear anything, my lady?" He inquired quietly. Her blue eyes rose to his face, and he saw pain in her eyes. What sort of pain, he knew not. She took his face in her hands, making him jump.

"I fear that one day, I won't have people like you, my friend," She replied ruefully. He had long since been her friend, standing at her side whenever she needed him. "Fear is a hard object to describe when you think about it. It comes and goes like fleeting winds, and one never knows what they truly fear until it stares them in the face."

Calenfaire's heart dropped out of his chest when she spoke. The lady knew more about life than he guessed. Then again, many knew more than she did. Her hands slid from his face, removing the cool feeling of her hands from his face like a passing wind.

"Remember that, little Calenfaire," Coruwen told him patting his head. It was strange; whenever Himon patted his head he became embarrassed, but when Coruwen did it he felt the fondness in the gesture. He saw her in the same light as Moriel. He watched her walk back into the halls, appearing almost like a phantom as she did so. The sheer cloak she wore floated on the wind as the dress's fabric clung to her graceful frame.

He smoothed down his black hair feeling twinges of pain pass through his heart. Why did he feel like this? Was it the fact his lady was not the same? He was confused… Oh so very confused.

* * *

Freya skidded beside Heimdall as they came to land in their hold in the Grey Mountains. Her emerald mate was lying in the middle of the vast stone room that she had carved herself many years ago. His tail swished as he etched symbols into the smooth stone with one deep green claw. Freya never understood why he was so quiet or interested in little things like foreign tongues.

Regardless, she chose him above all others. Well, and the fact he was bigger than her. She hated being so mighty and lengthy. Curse her father's genes! She lay beside Heimdall and rested her horse head beneath his wedge shaped one, letting out happy rumbles to him.

"I love you too, dearest," Heimdall laughed. He rubbed her head with his chin feeling her slowly slink away from him. "Tell me what bothers you."

Freya eyed him curiously with her fiery eyes. Her big heart ached without realization. She placed one paw over her chest feeling the heart pulse beneath it. Heimdall was so perceptive to her that when they bonded he seemed to know everything about her. She grumbled in her chest, and her mind wandered a bit. Her Dear One looked sick and pale; her voice meek and hollow, and her posture not as high as she remembered. Her little Coruwen was broken.

"Dearest," Heimdall stated softly. His lantern yellow eyes met her amber ones with the softest expression she had ever seen in him. They were begging her to tell him what was bothering her. She bumped snouts with him. "Do not try and say that there is nothing."

Freya cracked her tail against the walls sending a thunder like crack through the air. "My Dear One wasn't herself." Freya muttered. Heimdall bumped her shoulder to continue. "She used to be so strong, and now she is broken…"

"What broke her?"

"It is not a what, my keeper. It was a who; a king broke her when he passed into the halls of the Valar. She has slowly been breaking under the weight of her own spirit and shattered heart."

Heimdall's face became grim and he sighed. "I am sorry to hear that… Is there a way to fix her?"

Freya thought it over. There could be just one way Coruwen could be fixed, but to do so would mean finding another to replace him in her heart. No other would replace him in her eyes. First loves were like that. They held you firm in your place and their ghost would haunt you until another cast them aside. Heimdall had saved her from the suffocating grip of Scatha's memory in her heart. Now, Freya would have to help her Dear One.

"Aye, there is," Freya said with a tone of regret hitting her vocal cords. Her eyes searched Heimdall's face. "And it must be done in the same fashion as you did with me."

Heimdall's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

"There is no other way."

Heimdall crossed his paws one over the other. He sighed deeply whilst scratching his jagged chin. Freya could see the little gears in his head turning as he thought over other outcomes, but nothing came to mind. "So be it."

"We must cast aside the memories of past loves so she may be free." Freya laid her head down to relax her tired neck. Heimdall laid his head across her wings and he let out a puff of steam. She smiled at his cute behaviors. "It will be no easy task with the War coming, but it must be done or she will die."

"The joy in your voice isn't helping…"

Freya swatted his nose with her tail and he grumbled deep within his chest. So deep was this rumbling that she felt her own chest cavity shake. "Sleep, my Emerald Keeper." The rumble died down to a gentle breathing that soothed her troubled heart and soul. "Yes, sleep…"

* * *

**Please review! I want to hear from you guys! :)**

**Tiny Side Note: Chapters 2 and 3 have been edited down for content, if you guys want to re-read.. **


	5. Chapter 5

_**Returning to the River**_

* * *

_-September 11, 3018-_

* * *

As months passed there had been tidings of Frodo and his Company leaving the Shire to travel Imladris with an object of great power. The vision received by Galadriel did not tell her of what came to Imladris, only that the object was of dark magic. With that knowledge in hand, Galadriel and Celeborn had asked if Coruwen would travel to Imladris. Of course, they would not send their niece alone. Legolas, Himon, and Calenfaire were to meet her in the High Pass through the Misty Mountains. Upon this morning in September, Coruwen planned on departing Lórien to make for the High Pass.

Coruwen made a mental list of everything she would need on this trip across the mountains. She packed a few spare dresses, bread, dried fruit, and water. She had decided on wearing a traveling dress colored dark blue and was heavy enough for the brisk air of autumn. The door to her room opened, revealing her uncle standing in the doorway.

His blue-grey eyes watched her closely, and she expected him to speak. She could see the cream and white robes he wore out of the corner of her eye along with one of his slender hands. Slowly, he entered the room and she shifted her gaze over to him.

Celeborn looked down at all of the supplies she had spread on her bed. He raised one eyebrow to the items, and then looked between her and the items. "No knife?" Celeborn inquired. There was a bit of conviction swirling in her blue eyes that made him curious. "Coruwen, what is wrong?" She turned away from him and started towards something in the far corner.

She stopped in her tracks, hiding her hands in her sleeves. "You always told me ladies of the court do not require knives, uncle." She replied softly, so soft that her own ears strained to hear the words.

"Typically, I would agree with you, but you are venturing off into a world that is becoming increasingly more dangerous, nightingale." Celeborn walked up to her reaching for her, but stopped when he saw her shake. He ever so delicately pulled her close to him, feeling her quivering like a frightened mouse.

"A feeling of dread grows in my heart that I cannot seem to shake no matter what I do… I have been seeing visions again, terrible visions." She turned and leaned into Celeborn. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her head. He stroked her back gently, but she still shook. "The fall of Gondolin and Eriador were the most recent."

"My little nightingale does not need to be scared. Those are in the past, and long forgotten. The feeling of dread has been looming over your aunt's head as well. She has not been herself since the vision of the Halflings the other day. "

Coruwen pulled away from Celeborn and searched his face when he spoke of Galadriel being uneasy. He gave her a forced smile while stroking her hair. "Uncle, you do not desire me to leave…"

"Your aunt and I decided to let you travel across the mountains. You are not a caged bird, Coruwen. You have to be let out sometime." His smile fell becoming the impassive mask he typically wore. He turned and walked out of the room, but stopped in the doorway. Over his shoulder, he said in a slightly jesting tone, "You should still carry a knife with you."

Coruwen chuckled at his obstinate statement as she moved to put her items in her pack. When his footsteps drifted off, she grabbed one of her old knives free from its mate and wrapped it in a cloth to conceal its presence. The knife felt heavy, foreign in her grip. The feeling of the steel dagger's leather wrapped hilt sliding across her skin made her cringe. Her hands frantically placed it in the pack and she closed the pack.

As she wrapped her cloak around her shoulders, she heard the footsteps of her uncle and aunt near her door. Coruwen wrapped her hands around the brooch that held the cloak shut feeling the smooth metal beneath her hand. She gripped her pack and departed her room.

Galadriel stood before her with her hand in Celeborn's. The Lady of Light wore a gown of silver and the hem was decorated with pearlescent beads. Galadriel smiled at Coruwen fondly and motioned for her to follow them.

After departing the tall mallorn tree flet, Coruwen watched Celeborn approach a horse with a silver blanket across her back along with brown leather tack. This horse was a dun mare with a long mane of black and stripes running down her spine along with her legs. The mare snorted nudging Celeborn with her muzzle.

"Uncle, what is this?" Coruwen asked walking to her aunt's side.

Celeborn placed a hand on the mare's snout when she tried to nudge him again. "This is a horse, my dear niece." Celeborn replied with a playful smirk. Galadriel chuckled at the remark with a small shake of her head.

Coruwen smiled, nodding. "I see that, Uncle. I'd like to know this mare's name."

The mare raked the ground and wove her way around Celeborn to approach Galadriel with happiness gleaming in her almond eyes. The mare's legs were pure black aside from a small patch of tan on the tops of her legs nearest the shoulder. Even there, Coruwen saw black stripes on her legs mixing with tan fur.

"Her name is Ithil; a gift from the Elvenking," Celeborn told her, walking up to Galadriel's side. "She is yours, nightingale."

Coruwen's heart stopped when she placed a hand on Ithil's tan coat. She locked eyes with Ithil, taking in her kind almond eyes tinted with a bit of fire. A smile came to the elleth's face when Ithil whinnied at her. Her muzzle nudged Coruwen in the side making her let out a small squeak. "She is most fair…" Coruwen whispered stroking Ithil's forelock. "Send Thranduil my thanks."

"We will do so, dear." Galadriel answered. Galadriel placed a kiss on Coruwen's forehead before she climbed onto the back of Ithil. "May Elbereth light your journey's path, Coruwen."

Coruwen smiled and clicked her tongue for Ithil to walk on. The mare snorted, tossing her head back at Coruwen like she was back talking her. Why did this seem familiar to her? She cast the questions aside as Ithil wove her way out of Lórien. Coruwen patted Ithil's neck as the mare walked off past the gates of Caras Galadhon.

The gold leaved mallorn trees let in a dark gold light past their shields, flecking the ground with soft patches of pale light. The trek was slow to reach the Nimrodel and she was stopped by a group of Galadhrim wardens that were returning from the farthest edges of Lórien to report back in.

One that caught her eye was Haldir, the man who had raised her as his own from the time she was a young elleth. His steely grey eyes met hers and she tore hers away feeling heartache rise up in her chest. From what Galadriel had told her; she had been given to Haldir for protection from darker forces. It had only been sixty years ago that she had learned of her true parents and guardians. There was tension between her and Haldir now. The only one that remotely spoke to her was Orophin… The fact that she had lost Haldir's trust hurt her deeply. She missed him, for all of her life he had taught her many things and loved her as his own.

Coruwen saw as the Head Marchwarden walked up and greeted her with a low bow. He had a face that somewhat resembled a fox; long and thin with a smile that could have matched the creature he resembled. The dark grey cloak of the Marchwardens hung around his nimble frame and held together with a silver brooch depicting a leaf. "Lady Coruwen, what brings you to the outskirts of Lórien?" He asked his voice slightly suspicious.

Coruwen gave him a small incline of her head. "I am venturing off towards the High Pass of the Misty Mountains, General Gilion." She said firmly. Gilion nodded and he gestured for her to move on. Ithil took the gesture as a small token of cantering. The mare cantered off, startling Coruwen a great deal. The elleth halted Ithil once they were out of sight. She leaned down and took Ithil's ear. "Don't scare me, please."

Ithil neighed, tossing her head in agreement. Ithil started off into a brisk walk that escalated into a slow trot when they climbed slopes. Following the Misty Mountains meant one only saw thick mist, grey, snow peaked mountains, and the occasional patch of large plain that stretched far across the East to Greenwood. Coruwen only saw mist in front of her, but knew the path to the High Pass quite well. If she reached the Gladden River by nightfall she would be safe enough to travel north to the Pass. The elves that were to join her were waiting at the entrance of the pass for her.

With any luck, she wouldn't run into any giants again.

Ithil was a funny mare; she would toss her head when Coruwen spoke to her as if answering her, or would pick her feet up in a random gait that would be described as a court horse's walk. The dun mare halted when the sound of rushing water came to her sensitive ears, pricking them forward. Coruwen followed Ithil's gaze upward to the sound where she saw the Gladden River flowing down from cracks in the Misty Mountains' walls, and thus washing the basin at the bottom in pristine water.

"Good girl, Ithil," Coruwen whispered patting the mare's neck. She let the horse drink from the waters and watched her intently. The mare's elegant head would stoop and gather water in her mouth, thus churning the bit in her mouth. The moon hung lazily in the sky, casting pale light down on the world beneath. The light of the moon touched Ithil's tan coat, sending silver and white light across her tan fur and black mane. "We'll rest for a spell, girl."

Ithil raised her head from the water's edge, snorting in response. Coruwen abandoned Ithil's side searching for somewhere she could sit. She found a dry rock beside the water's edge that allowed her to skim her fingers on the waters of the Gladden's stream. It was cold, almost bitter to her touch. It was similar to touching snow.

Ithil walked up to Coruwen and bumped her with her snout. In defense, Coruwen put up her hands against Ithil's pushing. The mare whinnied quietly with kindness in her eyes. The kindness was rewarded with a good scratch behind the ears. Ithil leaned into her mistress's hand like a cat; so much force was used that Coruwen felt as if she was going to fall off of her rock.

"Ithil, come,"Coruwen said quietly. Ithil backed away, tossing her head around in defiance. Coruwen stood and mounted Ithil once more. The mare crossed the waters of the river; they trotted on through the night up to the steps of the High Pass of the Misty Mountains. The flicker of flames passed in her vision as she rode Ithil up the crags to a small alcove cave where the fire's orange light glowed. Upon dismounting Ithil, the sound of metal being unsheathed came to her ears, forcing her nerves to jolt in her spine. From the cave's mouth stalked out Himon with his curved blade poised at the ready.

"Himon," Coruwen stated from beside Ithil. The general lowered his blade, giving her a firm nod. From within the cave emerged Legolas and Calenfaire, both wearing the dark taupe and green raiment of Greenwood. The prince's eyes lit up at the sight of her and he strode forward to embrace her. "It is good to see you, my friend. I'm sorry for my tardiness."

"It is to be expected," Legolas told her with a smile. "Calenfaire, Himon, we're leaving." The two darted off into the cave leaving Coruwen with Legolas. "How was your ride here?"

"Smooth," Coruwen replied plainly. Her eyes fell to the ground, feeling a bit guilty for making him wait. "I made you wait here for a longer period of time… I should know better."

"Coruwen, drop it, I knew you had to ride from Lórien, thus prolonging your ride."

She let out a sigh, knowing she wouldn't gain much ground against him. She had known him for far too long to try to weasel her way out of anything. She passed a hand across her horse's forelock, feeling the mare nudge her playfully. Legolas eyed the horse with a great amount of fondness. "You have met her before?"

"Yes, my father told me of this beauty," The prince reached up and stroked the bridge of Ithil's nose. "She is a fine mare."

Coruwen smiled faintly before mounting her horse. "Am I the one leading us through this pass?"

Legolas chuckled as he was handed a white gelding. "No other knows this pass as well as you, my lady." Himon and Calenfaire joined them in a single file line as Coruwen led them through the High Pass. Her mind slightly wandered to when she had come through here previously.

The stone giants battled over head, sending rocks and boulders awry with their heads grinding against one another in a battle that sounded like thunder. The one that fell could've merely crushed them in an instant. That night was unlike this one; it was clouded by a raging rainstorm. This one was clear, so bright that the stars glistened overhead like a blanket of midnight cast with flickering diamonds. She stared blankly ahead, watching the world between Ithil's ears. Her heart gave out a painful twinge at her wandering thoughts when it came to _them_.

Coruwen shut her eyes, placing a hand over her heart. There was no soothing that lingering ghost that draped itself across her soul like a sheet. Every so often she would hear him and tears would sting her eyes; she would see the troublemakers in others' actions thus making her shake. As they walked through the High Pass she remembered Bilbo dropping to the ledges below and barely hanging onto the slick stone. Her heart leapt to her throat, choking out her voice.

Ithil picked up her feet as she crossed a crack in the slim mountain pass. The charcoal black stones were jagged, scraped into fine points that were sharper than any dagger could ever hope to be. She heard laughter behind her that made her hair stand on end. That laugh was Calenfaire's; joyous and bright. Coruwen remembered when he had a cracking voice and was timid. Now, he laughed so loud that it surely would be picked up in a matter of seconds by anyone.

The group traveled through the night, reaching the heights that overlooked the vast waterfalls of Imladris. The sound of rushing water and the scent of crisp rivers came to the elleth as they clambered down the slopes to travel towards the House of Elrond. The foliage was dark green, and the rivers frothing with white mist that flecked passersby.

Upon arrival, two elven statues greeted them with their long stone cloaks swept aside with their weapons at ease. The horses snorted, shaking their manes about when their riders dismounted. Coruwen smiled up at the majesty of Imladris catching all of the shadows that passed in the halls and corridors overhead. Light grey stone was detailed with designs of swirling knots, stopping at the staircase that led upward. And upon those stairs stood Lindir; this ellon was the keeper of Elrond's house whenever the lord was away. His hair was dark and his eyes a light hazel, his robes were dark blue with a red cloak over his shoulders.

"Greetings, Lindir," Legolas said as the ellon descended down the steps greet the prince. Lindir placed a hand over his heart and then reached out to Legolas, who repeated the same gesture.

"It is good to see you also, Prince Legolas," Lindir replied with a bow of his head. His hazel gaze fell on Coruwen, who smiled with an incline of her head to him. "And it is good to have the Daughter of Finrod back in our halls."

"Is Lord Elrond present, Lindir?" Legolas inquired. The elf whipped around and then looked back at the stairs he had descended down from. Lindir held up one finger before walking away with a brisk pace. After a few minutes, Lindir returned with Elrond behind him.

The Lord of Imladris wore sections of his dark hair back in artistic braids, and the rest lay on his gold robes. He greeted the elves before him with bow of his head, and then looked at Legolas.

"You needed to speak with me, Prince Legolas?" Elrond asked. The prince nodded. "Lindir, take the prince to my library."

"Yes, my lord," Lindir replied. He motioned for Legolas to follow him up the steps and off to a corridor. Elrond's grey gaze fell on Coruwen, who curtsied to him. The lord smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder. Coruwen's body jumped at the contact, forcing her up from her curtsey.

"It is good to see you again, my dear," Elrond said in a low voice. A smile creased his fair face as he looked down at her. Coruwen returned to smile and placed her hand over his, feeling her soul lighten a bit in his presence. "The twins will be excited to see you. They're both sparring in the courtyard. Arwen should be with them."

Coruwen nodded, "Thank you, Elrond." She replied as she walked off towards the courtyard where Elrond had stated the twins were. She passed under trellises with climbing ivy and budding jasmine flowers in her hunt for the courtyard. It had been a long time since she had visited Imladris that she had forgotten her way around. She found herself running into many dead ends, but ended up having to play by ear to find the twins. The sounds of ringing metal and laughter drew her east to an open courtyard surrounded by a circle of trees.

Upon a bench sat Arwen, with her long dark hair in pretty waves rolling down her back. She wore a dress of periwinkle with long, sheer sleeves with embroidery on the hem of the sleeves and dress. Beside her sat Erestor and Glorfindel; the latter watching the twins before him and the other reading a book.

Coruwen walked up to Arwen, who glanced up at her with a semi bored expression. Her grey eyes narrowed instantly as she eyed Coruwen. Without hesitation, Arwen had wrapped Coruwen in a tight hug that made her gasp. Her hands came to rest on Arwen's back when she got over her scare.

"Arwen," Coruwen whispered as a faint smile creased her face. The daughter of Elrond pulled away, taking her shoulders.

"It is good to see you," Arwen replied in a hushed tone. She glanced over her shoulder at the men behind her. They clearly were focused on watching other things other than herself and Coruwen. "Come with me."

Coruwen was practically dragged by the hand by Arwen to her old chambers that overlooked a grand waterfall. The woman looked her over with a sly smile, "Arwen, no."

Arwen placed her hands on her hips. "Why not? You have been riding for a decent amount of time."

Coruwen gave in to Arwen's demand, but at least allowed her to bathe. The elleth sat at her side, observing Coruwen's hair as it became wet. With Arwen's eyes on her, she felt insecure around her. She smiled, shaking her head. "You haven't changed." Coruwen commented dipping her head into the water.

"You surely have," Arwen replied solemnly. Her grey eyes became sad for a moment before she shook herself free of the thoughts. "I mean, who would not change if they became the niece of my grandmother?"

Coruwen felt her twinge heart painfully making her tear her gaze away from her cousin. The teeth of a comb pressed against her scalp as Arwen worked her wet hair into a lace braid that rested on the crown of her head. She lifted her hand, cupping the water into it. The sweet scent of roses came to her senses when she shut her eyes letting herself relax.

"A few years ago and you would have never let me touch your hair like this," Arwen laughed as she tightened the braid to stay at the side of Coruwen's head. Mentally, Coruwen agreed with her; she hated having her hair touched. One becomes accustomed to it when Galadriel decides to play with it. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

"My aunt enjoys braiding my hair as much as you do," Coruwen opened her eyes. They fell on Arwen, who had moved away from her chair and was moving about her room. "May I inquire to what you are doing?" The elleth wrapped herself in a towel and entered her room, nearly getting knocked over by Arwen in the process, "Arwen, for goodness' sake."

She had placed a sapphire blue dress onto the bed with a silver slip to match it. Coruwen slipped into the dress and slip, looping the sleeve's loop around her middle finger. Arwen smiled, taking Coruwen's hands.

"I like it," Arwen whispered. Her eyes rose to the necklace at Coruwen's collarbone. The necklace was new to her. It was crafted with brilliant untarnished silver with a clear flawless sapphire set into the middle. Her grey eyes went wide as she analyzed the pendant closely. "Where did you find such a beautiful jewel?"

Coruwen's fingers ghosted onto the pendant, her face becoming forlorn. "A gift from him… Before he passed," She murmured ruefully before her hands rested back at her sides. Arwen gazed at her, unable to say anything as Coruwen sunk down in a chair.

Arwen stooped to her level, taking her cousin's slender hands and looking into her blue eyes. "I apologize for bringing such a concerned subject, but do you… Do you ever think that you will be able to let him go?

As Arwen looked into the sky blue eyes of Coruwen, she saw an emotion flare up as she stood abruptly. She only had a moment to back up before Coruwen glared darkly at her with every bit of disdain pointed towards her. What had she done? "You do not know what it is like to lose someone like that. You have never held one of them as they lay dying and you are left to watch their soul depart them. You know absolutely nothing!"

Coruwen fell back into the chair with the dark fire gone from her eyes. She was shaking her head as if she didn't want to hear something… Something was bothering her. Arwen cautiously started towards her once more. Her cousin's hands were tightened into fists with knuckles turning white. Gently, Arwen tucked a strand of gold behind Coruwen's ear making the elleth's gaze flick up.

"Arwen, I-," Coruwen shook her head, taking a deep breath. "I just need to be alone for a while… If it's not too much trouble."

"Of course, but know that I am here for you."

A long while passed until Coruwen was able to gain control of her emotions. The feeling of being torn still lingered in her heart. She felt as if she was being swallowed by a strange monster. Her heart was empty. Coruwen stood and made her way back out to the courtyards once more where she found Arwen standing beside one of the twins with her hand resting on his shoulder.

Many, including herself, had a hard time distinguishing one twin from the other. Coruwen found that only Elrond and Celebrian truly knew which twin was which. They both had the strong features of Elrond's house; dark brown hair, striking storm grey eyes, and well defined features. Glorfindel sat on the end of the bench, his dark blue eyes trained on a letter in his lap. Coruwen froze when grey eyes snapped back towards her, and she found herself staring into the face of Elladan. She noted that his eyes were pure grey, not tinted with blue like Arwen's.

"Coruwen, you're here," Elladan stated cheerfully. A grin creased his fair face as he took her hand. "When did you arrive?"

"About an hour ago," Coruwen replied patting his hand. Elladan inclined his head a bit in response. Coruwen smiled feeling his hand tighten around hers, she gave him a soft smile feeling her pick itself up for a moment before he released her hand. "I'm surprised you didn't hear me, Lord Glorfindel."

The lord's eyes flicked up from his letter and over to her, where a faint smile creased his face. "I must have not heard you. I was focused on watching Elladan and Elrohir spar not too long ago." He replied. He folded the letter back up and his gaze flicked around the courtyard before settling on Elladan. He knitted his fingers together before speaking, "Elladan, where did your brother run off to?"

Elladan shrugged, "I'm not my brother's keeper anymore. However, my best guess is that he got lost in the library with Erestor." Elladan said flatly. "Those two do have that strange fascination with books, you know."

Glorfindel sighed and stood. "Well, I will go find them before they get sucked into the void then." The three bowed their heads to him as he walked off behind the shadows of the crawling ivy.

Coruwen's eyes trailing after Glorfindel as he left them. He was graceful, cat like almost. She felt a tap on her side making her snap out of her distant glance. "By the way the prince of Greenwood wondered where you wandered off to. He finished speaking with my father, and wanted to tell you that he needed to see you," Elladan put in, standing. "I will see the two of you later." He winked at both his sister and cousin before following Glorfindel into the shadows.

"Your brother," Coruwen muttered as she sat on the edge of the bench. Arwen giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. "I will go find your father then."

Before she left, she brushed shoulders with a man that easily towered over her. His grey eyes met hers for a moment and within she saw age; in the foreground was gentleness and in the background loomed leadership. His face was well defined with a strong jaw that was shadowed by stubble; yet age had not touched his face in the slightest. He possessed dark brown hair that had an ever so slight wave. He was dressed in leather garb with a dark cloak over his shoulders.

Behind her, the man chuckled as she stood frozen on the steps that led into a corridor. She watched Arwen stand and take the man's hand and she realized who the man was. He was a lot younger when she had seen him last. A pleasant smile touched her face at the sight of the Dúnedan. Whirling around, she started towards Elrond's library.

She knocked on the door and heard Elrond's voice from within. Great shelves stood filled with books bound in every color with glossy spines reflecting the dim sunlight that streamed through the windows. A great silver dais stood in the middle of the room and a staircase stood off to the side leading up to a balcony. Elrond stood in the middle of the dais, a book in hand, but he glanced up when he heard the doors close.

"You needed to see me, Lord Elrond?" Coruwen asked, forcing her gaze to the floor. She could hear his boots click the floor and stop before her. She slowly raised her gaze up to Elrond's before seeing that he was smiling down at her.

"Ah, I see Elladan sent you to me…" He chuckled. "Come follow me." She followed him up the steps of the dais, where on the rail sat a book bound in black parchment. Elrond picked up the book and began to flip through the pages. "You know of the stories about Isildur cutting the ring from Sauron's hand, no?"

Elrond motioned for her to come to his side. She came closer, but froze when her eyes caught Black Speech written across a page. Her mind screamed at her to move. But for the life of her, she couldn't move. Closing the book, Elrond grabbed a hold of her shoulder giving her a small shake. "Are you all right?"

"Black Speech," Coruwen muttered, swallowing a hard lump in her throat. "I-I'm fine, thank you." Elrond gave her apprehensive look, but released her shoulder. Her heart beat fast within her chest at the thought of the plaguing nightmares involving that horrid speech. "I-I haven't seen it in years." She looked up at him. "Has it been found?"

"Yes and the person who carries the ring does not know of the potential it holds within. Bilbo's nephew carries it as we speak towards this very place," Elrond sighed, running a hand across his face. "Four of the Nazgûl have been seen on this side of the Misty Mountains. Where the other five are, we do not know."

"And what are we to do?"

"Aragorn is leaving in a few days for Bree. Arwen has yet to tell me of the purpose of traveling to the town, but we have hopes that the Halflings will venture there; far from the beaten path."

"There is hope. But what do we do if they do not follow the plans we have in mind?"

"I have a plan, dear nightingale. Leave that to me," He placed a hand on her shoulder. "You should not burden yourself with dark thoughts."

Coruwen gave him a nod, his words sinking into her mind. They prodded her heart with what felt like a hot iron poker making her shake a bit. It was what her aunt had feared; the Halfling did not know of the dangers of this world that lie ahead of him. For darkness is always looming over head like a spider; waiting and watching for its opportune moment to strike at people's hearts.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys, just wanted to give a big thank you for all of the follows! Also, I'm probably going to only update on the weekends since school is becoming a pain in my side ti work with. Anyway, if you'd leave me a review that'd be great and I will get back to you soon! **

**Author Review Answer Time: **

**Glorelwen: *pulls chapters out of hat* Here! :) Hope to hear from you again! **

**Please Review, They will help me improve and give me inspiration. :)**


	6. Chapter 6

_**My Dearest Bilbo**_

* * *

The world went quiet in the passing days. No word of Frodo's adventure came to their ears; the only thing they knew of was that Aragorn had left in the early hours of the morning one day for Bree. Upon waking, Coruwen changed and walked down to the stables to visit Ithil since she had little time to visit with her new horse. The dun mare was standing with her eyes shut in a cat nap until a whinny made her almond eyes crack open.

Beside Ithil stood a black gelding with feathered feet and a white blaze on his nose. He seemed happy to see Coruwen, who didn't remember this horse. He stamped his feet against the hay until another horse let out a quiet snort. Coruwen smiled at the social workings of horses. Ithil had remained quiet the whole time, but watched her stable mates in slight curiosity.

Coruwen walked up to the black gelding, reaching up to touch his cheeks. The fur of the horse was hot like he had been recently ridden. As she stared at the horse, her memory clicked into place. This horse was Lord Elrond's horse, Arthion.

"Hello Arthion," Coruwen smiled stroking the gelding's snout. Arthion tossed his head at her with a bit of zeal. She quietly laughed as the horse greeted her. He reminded her much of Faenaur in that regard, both greeted friends with a great amount of zeal. Against her back, she felt a nudge that made her bump into Arthion's head. Ithil stared at her with a hint of jealously glowing in her almond colored eyes. "I'm sorry Ithil. Old friends are hard to ignore."

The mare nipped at Arthion when he moved his head toward Coruwen once more. Using a lead rope, she led Ithil out of the stables and tied her to a tree branch so she could brush her out. She heard a second set of hooves upon the stone behind her, making shivers race down her spine. Someone was behind her.

"Stay," A stern voice ordered. A whinny was heard, almost as if the horse was teasing their master. On her shoulders, two gloved hands rested and the voice spoke once more, but his tone more gentle than before. "When did you appear?"

Coruwen turned around, looking up into the fair face of Elrohir. His dark hair was braided back out of his storm grey eyes. Mentally, she noted that his eyes were flecked with green; a tiny difference from Elladan. His dark cloak hung on his shoulders, obscuring the dark leather garb he wore.

"I have been here for a couple of weeks," Coruwen replied. Elrohir's hands slid off of her shoulders and folded behind his back. "Where have you been hiding?"

"Library and patrols," Elrohir stated with a chuckle. He returned to his horse, running a hand across her back. Coruwen watched him brush his mare out, and then turned away from his horse to grab another brush. The mare bit his hood and pulled his hood making him bolt upright and narrow his eyes at her. "No, no biting." The mare snorted, turning her head away. Coruwen smiled as she brushed out Ithil once more.

"Where are you off to this morning?"

Elrohir sighed as he held his horse's head away from him as he brushed her neck. "Elladan and I are leaving with the Rangers this morning. We should be back in a couple of weeks."

Coruwen combed out Ithil's mane, running her fingers through the sections that were smooth and free of tangles. In her heart, she did not wish for the twins to leave. Thankfully, she had Arwen to keep her company. "Why did you disappear into the library?"

"Erestor wanted to show me a map of Doriath when it was in its prime." Elrohir tossed a brush back into the bucket. "Quite strange to know that our lands used to one big kingdom; or at least Eriador was."

"I see."

She heard the clop of hooves and then a low curse that sounded like Elladan's voice. She turned her head to see Elladan holding onto his horse's reins trying to guide it towards the others, but to no avail. The horse stood firm, veering its head away from Elladan with all of its might.

"Elladan, don't force the horse," Elrohir pointed out as he slung a saddle over his mare's back. "That only causes backwards behavior."

Elladan relaxed allowing the horse to calm down enough for him to guide it over to the others. The horse was tacked and ready to ride, but eyed his master with a great amount of disdain. Coruwen untied Ithil from the tree, feeling the mare move away from her a bit. She stroked Ithil's nose with two fingers to soothe the mare's anxiety that seemed to flare when Elladan's horse grew near.

"Boys," Coruwen said quietly. The twins looked at her curiously in answer. "Be careful."

Elladan smirked. "We will, cousin. Always have, always will." Elrohir smacked him upside the head for his arrogance. Elladan rubbed the back of his head as Elrohir walked up to her. Whenever Coruwen looked up at Elrohir, she saw Elrond in his stead. Father and son were identical in gait. Elrohir took Coruwen's hand with a small glint of happiness in his grey eyes that told her they would be fine. His hand slipped free of hers when he grabbed the reins of his horse to lead her off with Elladan behind him. As she led Ithil to a large field to run free for a bit, she spied a white stallion nibbling on bits of grass nearby. His coat was snow white with a dark muzzle and expressive eyes set into an angular face.

Coruwen smiled as she let Ithil loose into the field. The stallion greeted her with a joyous whinny as he nipped her mane a bit. Ithil tossed her head away then bumping him with her head. Horses were merely humans in horse skin, she thought. She walked back to the main courtyard where the long shadows of morning's early light hung nearby with the passing winds being cool. She sat on a bench that overlooked the vast roaring falls of Imladris, watching the swallows dance in the mists and rise to sit upon tree branches. Behind her, she heard grumbling; faint but familiar.

Blue eyes flicked around to land on a mess of curly white hair that bobbed up and down. Happiness filled the elleth when she recognized that mess of curls. The elderly hobbit climbed a set of steps with a red leather bound book cradled in his arms. Bilbo grumbled to himself about something as he came to place his book at her side, not once looking up to regard her with his brown eyes. It was her hobbit, Bilbo Baggins.

"Confounded quill, where did you run off to?" Bilbo growled patting his waistcoat pockets. He turned in a circle patting his back pockets, then his front ones. Coruwen spied the quill lodged into the bindings of the book; she pulled it free and handed it to Bilbo, who met her eyes finally. His mouth opened to thank her, but hung open in shock. "C-Coruwen?"

"Hello, my _perian_," Coruwen said softly, stroking the side of his aging face. Age had caught up with him since she had last laid eyes on him. It was thirty years that he had gone with her to Erebor to revisit a lost group of friends. Bilbo shut his mouth and pulled Coruwen into a tight hug. She smiled, patting his white hair. He pulled away allowing her to pass a hand through his curls, and the glint that shined in his eyes was reminiscent of the old days, he still dreamed of adventure and the time he spent with the dwarves, "My dear Bilbo."

Bilbo smiled up at her, his eyes slightly watering at the sight of her. No doubt he missed her. He had become a dear friend of hers on the journey to Erebor. He came to sit beside her and showed her his book.

In detailed penmanship read: _"There and Back Again. A Hobbit's Tale by Bilbo Baggins."_

Inside were old maps detailing their adventure to Erebor, the path through Mirkwood, and a map of Thranduil's halls. Short stories of Erebor, Mirkwood, Smaug, and Freya resided within these pages. Bilbo had taken up drawing old pictures of himself as a young hobbit, certain people in the company, and Freya. His picture of Freya made her smile; it was of Freya lying in a patch of sunlight with her tiger eye necklace hanging from her neck, as she looked onward to the centerfold of the book.

"Bilbo, this is wonderful," Coruwen awed as she ran her fingers over the parchment. The hobbit beamed up at her with pride, and caught her fingers before she turned the next page. The look in his eyes was one of great caution. A tiny voice in her mind told to stop, but she acted without thinking. Slowly, Coruwen turned the page to find a picture of her and Thorin, standing side by side. His hands rested upon Orcrist and great pride was drawn into his features. On his shoulder rested one of her hands, but the look upon her face was one of fondness. Her world was knocked out from underneath her at the picture. She bit down on the side of her hand to stop herself from tearing up at the sight of it.

"I'm sorry, Coruwen," Bilbo muttered, patting her back. "I never meant for you to see that page… It was a dream that I had a while back." The elleth fought the urge to cry, her heart shuddered in her chest, and her mind was blank. The only thought in her mind was the haunting picture of Kili's ashen face as he lay before her; broken and bloodied by blades. "Coruwen?" Under his breath, he whispered, "Oh bother, what to do…"

The hobbit leapt up, scurrying around for an elf that could possibly help his dear friend. He wandered down a flight of stairs to find Glorfindel and Elrond standing in a doorway, speaking to each other in the elf-tongue. Bilbo watched Glorfindel turn and face him with a bit of concern in his blue eyes.

"I hate to bother the both of you, but there seems to be a problem with Lady Coruwen," Bilbo stated, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. Elrond's eyes narrowed as he slid past Glorfindel to find Coruwen. The lord followed after Elrond up the steps and Bilbo shortly after. Elrond had taken Coruwen in his arms, stroking her hair in an attempt to calm her. The elleth clutched Elrond's shoulder so tight that her knuckles turned white.

Elrond gently removed her hand from his shoulder and held both of her hands in his own. He whispered a question to her, and she managed a slow nod. His voice calmed her mind, slowly bringing her back into normality. She glanced up at Bilbo through her blurred vision, catching the grief and concern in his face.

"May I inquire to what you asked her?" Elrond asked releasing her hands.

"Showed her a picture, it was an accident," Bilbo replied as he scooped up his book. "I didn't think that she'd have a negative reaction, my mistake."

Glorfindel took Elrond's place at Coruwen's side, and Bilbo watched as Elrond motioned to show him what all he had shown Coruwen. Bilbo flipped through the pages and handed the page in mind to Elrond. The elven lord looked the page up and down before sighing, "Poor nightingale."

"Is there any way to fix this?" Glorfindel inquired letting go of Coruwen's hand. Elrond motioned for Glorfindel to follow him inside with Bilbo behind, leaving Coruwen by herself. The lord of Imladris was given Bilbo's book to hold for a moment, allowing him to search through its contents. "My Lord, there must be a way."

"If there is, I do not know of one, Glorfindel," Elrond replied shortly, pinching the space between his eyes. Bilbo felt guilty for causing the trauma to come back to Coruwen again. His eyes lowered to the floor in an attempt to slink away. "Bilbo, it is not your fault."

Then whose fault was it? Bilbo's mind came up with that question, but dared not voice it. "I remember her being a fierce, stubborn woman. She challenged Thorin's jurisdiction an awful lot." Bilbo pointed out. "She doesn't break down if I show her pictures of his nephews, but Thorin… Well, you saw what happened."

"No doubt from his untimely death," Elrond made a steeple with his fingers. "Only time will fix our lady now. There is little we can do. Arwen is the best at calming her and speaking to her about the oldest son of Thrain. If anyone can get information from her; it's Arwen."

Glorfindel and Bilbo nodded in agreement. In his heart, he hoped that one day Coruwen would return to her old self. He missed her friendly smiles and laugh. It hurt to believe that she couldn't revert to her old self, but with trauma such as this. What could you do to help someone who cannot bring them to change?

After much time alone, Coruwen ended up sitting by herself in an alcove with a book. Her heart had calmed down after its sudden outburst earlier. It almost felt as if she had no control whether or not her emotions sky rocketed at odd times. When she had lost control earlier, she saw flashes of Thorin lying in front of her beaten down by orc and goblin blades. She felt helpless, she didn't want to change, but even she saw the trouble that her distress was causing others. She leaned her head back against the alcove's cold stone wall and shut her eyes.

Coruwen tightened her hands into the folds of her dress, trying to think up a dream or vision. As of late, she had either dreamed of death, war, or a combination of both.

* * *

The pitch darkness of her eyelids became skewed by a light blue picture of gentle seas rolling onto the sands and rocks. The vision's eye rose to younger version of herself sitting in Finrod's lap playing with his hair.

Her father flinched when the elleth pulled on a strand of gold hair. He pried her grip off of his hair before taking her little hand in his far bigger one. The two were identical with their hair coloring and eyes. Finrod twirled one gold wave with two fingers with a fond smile on his face. The little girl pouted and pushed Finrod over making him feign defeat.

"Ada?" The girl asked crawling onto his chest so she could see his face better. Her blue eyes were wide with shock. "Ada, wake up." She tugged on his robes and when Finrod didn't move she panicked. Her voice became quiet as she poked his face experimentally. "Adar, please…"

The ellon smirked, cracking open one sky blue eye at his daughter before picking her up. The girl squealed, kicking and flailing, but laughter hinted her voice as she stared down at her father. "Got you, princess," Finrod laughed. He set the girl down in the sand as she crossed her arms with a pout on her face. He held back another laugh as she glared up at him. "Oh come now, you aren't really mad at me, are you?"

He poked her side, and she darted away, "Adar, not funny."

Finrod craned his head back so he could look up at the sky. "I see how you are, couldn't take a simple game. Just like Naneth." The girl lowered her arms, giving him an appalled look. The lord placed a hand over his eyes, "That's it, I'm a horrible father. I can't even play with my little girl…"

The girl tackled Finrod to the ground with a wild grin on her face. She placed a kiss on his cheek. "Not true, I love playing games with you, Ada."

The vision ended with the duo's laughter becoming enveloped in the roar of waterfalls and seas. Coruwen opened her eyes feeling a bit of happiness touch her heart and soul. She placed a hand over her heart, taking a deep sigh. She missed her father and mother greatly; one day she would be able to meet them again after spending the entire Third Age in Middle Earth.

* * *

Not too far away, her ears picked up the sounds of footsteps. She couldn't depict who was passing nearby. Her hands folded the pages of the book back up and she stood to see who was coming near her. She spied dark hair and her mind told her it was either Elrond or Erestor. The figure moved up the steps toward her and she saw it was the latter. The ellon met her eyes and stopped before her, giving her a small bow of his head. She, in return, curtsied to him.

"We were wondering where you went off to, my lady." Erestor said playfully with a small smirk. He took in her solemn expression and he became curious to why. Hesitantly, he approached Coruwen and asked, "What is troubling you?"

"Nothing bothers me, Lord Erestor," Coruwen muttered, her voice becoming soft. The lord looked into her eyes with an emotion clouding them. Sympathy… Coruwen had a small little voice that asked why he was looking at her so. He quickly cast the sympathetic look for his face and she snapped out of her thoughts. "What is it you need?"

"Come join the rest of us," Erestor replied. He offered her his hand, which she took, and the two left the alcove to join the rest of the elves. They entered the Hall of Fire, where many elves lingered in the hall talking amongst them and there were many that were leaving the great hall. The windows of this great hall were fashioned of stained glass allowing in soft gold sunset light, almost matching the hues of the fire.

The laugh of Bilbo echoed off of the high ceiling as he sat at the right hand of Elrond, who listened to one of the many tales that Bilbo wove. Lindir sat against a pillar plucking the strings of a silver harp, tuning it to the sound of Arwen's voice as she sang certain notes for him. A second ellon sat on the other side of Bilbo listening to the hobbit talk. Coruwen found it funny that Bilbo was very animated with his hands and laughed at himself when he found snags in the story's fluency.

Erestor released her hand and returned to a wooden table where piles of paper and scattered books laid. She walked over to Lindir and Arwen, sitting on a step beside the latter. Coruwen turned her head at the sound of a low humming to see Glorfindel sitting behind the pillar with his fingers taping on his knee to quiet music. Coruwen heard the soft hum of the harp strings being plucked by Lindir's long fingers. He glanced over his shoulder, giving her a small smile.

If she shut out Arwen's voice, Coruwen could hear Glorfindel's voice. His song was sad, yet his voice seemed to be distant. The plucking of a harp string made Coruwen turned her attention back to Lindir. He started to play a gentle tune that matched the song of both Arwen and Glorfindel. It was rather happy for being so quiet. Coruwen smiled as she listened to the song. The song steadily rang out into the hall along with Arwen's sweet voice.

As Lindir's harp came to a lingering halt; so did the voices of the two elves nearby. The steward rapped his fingers on the silver of his harp, almost sounding like rain beating upon a rooftop. Coruwen felt eyes looking at her and she turned her gaze to Glorfindel, who was watching her with mild curiosity in his blue eyes.

"I assume you heard me?" He inquired with a small smile quirking up the sides of his mouth. Coruwen blinked in shock at him speaking to her, but regained herself rather quickly.

"Yes, my lord, I did," Coruwen said with a dip of her head. "I have heard that melody before."

"It is a song from Gondolin; typically sung in peaceful times. As of late, the world seems to be falling out of it," Glorfindel sighed; his head leaned back against the pillar so that his gaze was focused on the ceiling. "Your little friend seems to be keeping everyone's spirits high, but I wonder how long it will last."

Coruwen smiled, "Bilbo has a habit of doing so; even against the impending might of a dragon." The lord's gaze flicked down to her with disbelief darkening his eyes. "You know of what I speak, the hobbit went with the company on the journey to Erebor. He passed under the nose of Smaug the Golden quite easily."

"Mithrandir has told me about the stealth of the hobbits," He replied. "They are quite light on their feet, mute even."

The elleth nodded in agreement. "There were several accounts where I had him sneak up on me. Nearly scaring me out of my own skin."

The Lord laughed at her statement. The laugh was full of a bright happiness that almost made Coruwen want to laugh along with him. However, a second part of her wrenched on her happiness cutting it short; thus making her only smile at him. She found his company similar to that of the twins; his company lightened her heart.

"Tell me, how did you fare with that lot? It must've been difficult."

Coruwen felt her spirit give out a painful whip to her heart. She mustered the words, ignoring the painful bite of the lash. "Quite; in fact their leader harbored great disdain for me and our kin. His sister-sons were the ones who convinced him to let me come along."

"Ah," He nodded. The doors to the Hall of Fire opened revealing an elven warrior. Elrond stood as the warrior came running up to him. Glorfindel and Erestor were up and beside their lord to listen as the warrior spoke. Concern passed across the faces of the three ellyns, and Coruwen heard Elrond sigh.

"Lindir, summon two other elves. Tell one to ride south and the other north," Elrond ordered. His stormy gaze fell on Erestor and Glorfindel. "Erestor, I want you to ride east. Glorfindel, ride west. If you find the Nine; be wary. They do not typically come this close to the Bruinen."

The ellyn departed the hall and Coruwen, alongside Arwen, approached Elrond. He looked at the ellith before him, and motioned for them to follow him. Arwen exchanged a look of worry with Coruwen as they followed Elrond out of the hall.

"Ada, what is the matter?" Arwen asked, stopping him once the others were out of earshot. Elrond turned, regarding the ellith with a small bit of worry.

"That ellon was one of the kin of Glorfindel; he said that the Nine are abroad and have they have passed close to my realm. Also, Mithrandir has not returned as he promised; meaning something is amiss." Elrond explained. Coruwen's heart tightened in concern at his words. "If our riders encounter Frodo and his company, they are to bring them here."

"I see," Coruwen murmured, tapping her fingers on her hip. "When Thranduil expelled Sauron all those years ago; the Nine must have gone with him. But I have a feeling one stayed…"

"That is an interesting thought… It makes sense; they wouldn't idly abandon Dol Guldur. It is a foothold in the East," Elrond agreed. "The Nine will not cross the Bruinen without being provoked. Something will have to push them."

"They must be searching for Frodo…" Arwen said. "Aragorn will protect him, but if the Nine overcome him; there could be consequences. To him or the hobbit; I know not."

"Few do, my daughter," Elrond turned toward the entrance of Imladris. "Girls, follow me."

Coruwen and Arwen hurried after the lord as he walked down to the entrance of Imladris. Before them stood Glorfindel and Erestor holding their horses by their reins as their heads tossed in anxiety. Elrond's brow furrowed when the other two riders weren't present.

"Where are the other two?" Elrond asked flatly.

"They rode off in the direction you assigned, saying they all ready knew of the Nine's coming," Erestor answered, patting his horse on the neck.

"I find that hard to believe," Glorfindel muttered as he mounted his horse. The white stallion did not move, but only nipped at his master's cloak as it swished near his face. The horse was familiar to Coruwen; he had been out in the field when she had let Ithil loose. The lord gave Erestor a sly smile, "Ready to leave, Erestor?"

"You first," Erestor deadpanned as he mounted a bay gelding.

"No, you first," Glorfindel laughed. Erestor shook his head and clicked his tongue for the horse to move on. The gelding picked up his feet into a quick canter, and was followed by Glorfindel out of Imladris.

"What must we do, Ada?" Arwen inquired, walking up to his side.

Elrond watched his kinsmen leave his home, but spoke to Arwen, "Prepare the Houses of Healing in case any of the travelers are injured. We must be ready." Arwen ran off in the direction of the houses, leaving Coruwen with Elrond. Her eyes studied him intently, waiting for an order. "We can only wait and hope."

"Of course, Lord Elrond," Coruwen whispered.

* * *

**A/N: ARGH! I have writer's block again... *Bangs head into wall* I hate this curse with a passion its not even funny! :( I'm sorry if this story is seeming slow, or boring. A bit of feedback would be wonderful! **

**I know I said I'd update on the weekends, and since it's still the weekend over where I am. I will do just so! :) **

**Author Review Answer Time: **

**Glorelwen: I give you chapter! Here!*Hands chapters* Most of my time during the week is mostly writing more chapters and editing them so they can be perfect on the weekend! :)**


	7. Chapter 7

_**Time's Pain**_

* * *

Days passed once more at a far slower pace. Little news had not come to the elves of the company of Frodo, nor had Gandalf arrived in Imladris during that time. The twins had yet to return from their outing with the Rangers, thus leaving both Arwen and Coruwen worried about their well being considering the Nazgul were abroad. Elrond's foresight had shown him that Glorfindel had found Frodo upon the Road with Aragorn and three other Halflings. That news had arrived a day ago.

Coruwen and Arwen were busying themselves with other tasks to keep their mind off of the warriors outside of their home. Finally after a bit of thought, the ellith decided to check up on their horses after nearly driving Lindir into an overwrought state. Ithil and Arthion greeted the ellith with two happy whinnies. Arwen's dappled grey mare was sleeping in her stall with her side leaning heavily up against the light wooden wall.

Arwen walked up to the mare and gave her small nudge with a teasing smile on her lips. "Iavas," Arwen whispered sweetly into the mare's ear. Instantly, the mare's head up with her brown eyes filled with a sleepiness that reflected that of a child. Iavas had been Arwen's favorite horse; she was a sweet, gentle mare. "Do you want to come out?"

Iavas nudged Arwen's shoulder playfully. Arwen let her free of the stall, and then proceeded to trot outside with the wind tossing her dark grey mane. Ithil followed after Iavas; trotting in figure eights around the other in a graceful dance. Ithil halted before Arwen and gave her a soft nudge on the shoulder before wheeling around to join Iavas again. The maiden laughed at the silliness of horses.

"Wherever did you receive such a mare?" Arwen inquired, turning to look at her cousin. Coruwen smile faintly with a hint of happiness truthfully gleaming in her blue eyes. It pleased Arwen to see her breaking free of her old self bit by bit. For a long while, Coruwen had been easy spooked and practically mute. At least she was smiling. Her cousin turned her head towards her, but still watched the mare's play out of the corner of her eye.

"Thranduil gave Ithil to me," Coruwen said as her blue eyes met Arwen's own. "He has been very kind to me; which I find strange."

Arwen nodded, agreeing with her that it was incredibly odd, "Indeed, you must be of some importance to him. Does your title mean anything to him?"

Coruwen's eyebrows shot up, and she scoffed, "Nay, and if it did; he would use it more often."

Curiosity started getting the better of Arwen's spirit as she was able to get answers out of her cousin for once. It was strange how much stress cracked open her protective shell. Arwen might've thought that was how the dwarves had gotten to know her, but then she reminded herself that Coruwen had been _different_ back then. "How far does your title extend in the eastern regions?"

"To my knowledge, only as far as Esgaroth to Erebor," Coruwen shifted her weight to her right hip. Arwen watched her fumble around with the leather reins of their horses. She was nervous, Arwen noted. "I could, of course, be entirely wrong."

Arwen felt a question prod her mind viciously. She wanted to ask about her adventure. She had heard it dozens of times, but never once had Coruwen spoken about it with just the two of them. Either the twins or one of the many lords were nearby listening. The maiden decided to speak her mind.

"Why did Thorin name you, 'Dragon Queen'?"

Coruwen let out a small breath. The elleth removed her gaze from the jumbled mess she'd made of the leather reins, and walked under the shade of a red-gold leafed tree. The leaves had begun to change into brilliant colors such as this; some bright vermillion and others aged gold. The light of the sun weaved its way through the tree; casting light and shadow upon Coruwen as she looked on to the great waterfalls of Imladris with a forlorn expression. The elleth had her hands wrapped around her arms, but Arwen noticed her nails digging into her left upper arm.

"I never truly knew why. Bilbo came to me when he had passed and gave me Thorin's ring, speaking about my new title. From my memory, I remember him speaking about it being a title given to me by the dwarves after I had quarreled with Legolas," Coruwen explained. "Ever since the Battle of Five Armies, I have been known to that region as Dragon Queen. Such a title no longer befits me."

"Coruwen," Arwen murmured. The elleth's own heart ached at the somber tone of her cousin. "There would be no other for such a title."

Coruwen whirled around with a certain quality that made Arwen jump. Her eyes were dark with anger. Her voice became stern as she spoke, "That is a lie; I am no longer that which you and the others remember."

With that, Coruwen departed the stable area. Arwen shook her head, feeling terrible. Many things came to her mind, but she put them aside. All of her life, Coruwen had been an older sister to her; they were close once, but as of late she seemed to be growing apart from her. She was far out of reach, turning into a living shadow. In her heart, Arwen felt as if she did not know the _entire_ story of how the Battle of Five Armies played out. There were pieces Coruwen left out or had forgotten that made the maiden question her cousin's authenticity of the tale. Only one person knew what truly happened without beating around the bush. A certain hobbit would tell her everything.

"Ithil, Iavas, back inside!" Arwen ordered. The mares' attention snapped to her as they came trotting up to her with their heads held high in the cool autumn breeze. She placed the mares back inside of their stalls before walking around Imladris for Bilbo. She checked in every place that would see logical for a hobbit to go, and finally deduced that he must've been in the Hall of Fire.

Few elves sat in the dimly lit hall, but Arwen found Bilbo in a corner writing in his leather book with a strange amount of fervor. He was peculiar to her, and it was so strange that he enjoyed busying himself similar to the way her own people did. As she approached him, Bilbo slammed his book shut and gave Arwen a bow of his head.

"Greetings, Lady Undomiel," Bilbo greeted setting his book on the floor. Arwen gave him a genuine smile and sat beside him in the window seat, "And to what do I owe the pleasure of having you in my presence?"

Arwen giggled at the use of words, "I have come desiring to ask you a question." She said, and the hobbit gave her a small tilt of his head. Quietly, she began, "I wish to know what happened to Coruwen after the passing of Thorin Oakenshield and his nephews."

Bilbo's elderly face became downcast as he picked up his red book; his gaze sorrowful. He flipped through the parchment to a page where Bilbo sighed heavily. Slowly, he handed the book to her. Arwen saw a picture of Erebor standing tall and proud above masses of mangled bodies all with distorted faces of agony. Tentatively, Bilbo spoke.

* * *

"_It was a day that no song could cure; the only words were of sadness and the wails of people mourning their lost loved ones. If you listened close enough, you could still hear the guttural chants of troll drums along with the thundering of horse hooves upon the parched ground of the Desolation of Smaug. It was a day that I wish I could go back and erase. _

_For you see, Coruwen had been instructed to remain behind with the healers and Freya in the encampment, and upon the return of the elves, dwarves, and Men; Thorin and the boys weren't among them. She instantly fled to Legolas, and together they rode out. I had awoken after they had returned. According to Gandalf, Coruwen had found Fili dead and Kili passed away in her arms. But Thorin still drew breath; though what he drew was little. I remember looking upon Coruwen and seeing pain along with great sorrow. Thorin forced her from his side so that she may not have mourned him…. _

_As she left, I saw a certain glint in her eyes fade. As Thorin lie before me, practically willing himself to hang on; he gave me one last command. _

"_Coruwen will no doubt grieve me and I want you to be there for her when she breaks." Thorin told me with his voice hoarse. In his hand sat a small silver ring, that I had seen on a chain once before. It struck me then and there as I looked at him; that he wanted her to be reminded of him in a happy memory, not one of sadness. "I name her Dragon Queen, like the Dragoness she serves. Do not let her forget that title…" _

_He pressed the ring into my hand and gave me a faint, tired smile. And as he spoke before passing, I saw all of the lights leave his eyes and he slipped under the influence of death. Then it came…_

* * *

Bilbo shut his eyes tightly, and Arwen patted his hand softly. "Continue, my friend_,_" Arwen urged. The hobbit's brown eyes became soft, almost teary. "What came?"

Bilbo drew a sharp breath. "I cannot speak anymore, my lady. The memory is still very strong and very painful in my mind," Bilbo whispered. "I am truly sorry." Indeed he was very sorry; it was written all over his face as Arwen gazed down at him. She pressed a gentle hand against his own, and he clutched her hand tightly.

"I begin to understand," Arwen murmured. She was starting to piece together Coruwen's story bit by bit. "My cousin is no longer the once proud lady she was, and I fear that as time goes on. I will lose her to _that_ memory."

Bilbo gave her a firm look, which she found mildly startling. "Thorin's memory is what broke the dragon's back…" The hobbit stated, drawing Arwen's attention. His hands tightened around hers, such force was strange for one so small. But Arwen knew that Bilbo cherished Coruwen's company a great deal; almost as much as herself. "Now, we must find a way to fix the dragon's broken back."

Arwen felt her stomach tie itself into knots over and over. She needed to find Coruwen, quickly.

* * *

Coruwen had grown tired of Arwen's badgering, and she had fled from her cousin. She had run to a small clearing nearest the river outside of Imladris' borders. The sound of the Bruinen's roaring waters in her ears dulled out her surging sorrow. Why did she break? All Arwen had asked was to tell her what happened after the Battle of Five Armies… But something had snapped; something _always_ snapped. The elleth trembled as she dipped her fingers into the river's smooth flowing waters. Crystalline waters flowed up and over her palm like clear silk as it rushed along in its merry path. She let out a sigh as she let the water run over her hands. Behind her, Coruwen heard horse hooves crunching river stones and then there was a thud as a rider dismounted its steed.

"Coruwen," A voice said gently. Legolas stood behind her, watching her intently. Her gold hair rested upon her shoulder and her pale face rueful. She drew her knees near her chest and she looked up at him with her blue eyes distant. Legolas walked up to her, kneeling down beside her with an arm wrapping around her shoulders. "What are you doing out here?"

"It does not concern you," Coruwen growled into her arms. She did not need to look up at him to know his expression. He was irritated by her words… His hand that rested on her shoulder tightened as she shifted her eyes up. "Leave me alone…"

"What did I tell you the last time you said those _exact_ same words?" Legolas asked, his tone becoming playful. A smirk crossed his fair face, and lightened his storm grey eyes. Coruwen withheld a deep sigh of annoyance, knowing that he had saved her from too many emotional distresses. "Well?"

"You said you could not leave me," Coruwen repeated trying to match his typical arrogant tone. He frowned as she mocked him and he removed his hand. Her tone dropped back to its normal hollow one again; strangely mocking him brought her a strange joy but not enough to smile or laugh… "My memory has not failed me of that incident."

"Aye, that it has," Legolas drawled. "Now, what are you doing out here by yourself?"

Coruwen narrowed her eyes at the Bruinen. "The past has been haunting me as of late," She murmured. The prince shook his head in disbelief. "You did not have people die in front of you…"

Legolas' gaze became stern. "No, I _almost_ lost someone very close to me. I saw my kindred being slain in front of me, but when the battle ended I nearly lost my father to his own insolence and you to a beyond ridiculous reason."

Coruwen shot him a small glare through the folds of her dress. "Legolas…"

The prince sighed shortly. "Chastising you won't fix anything… But you shouldn't hide from others because you afraid to voice your emotions. You are hiding…"

"I am not."

"Really?"

"You do not possess the right to chastise me like a child. I know what I am doing. I do not need _you_ to babysit me."

"I have been doing it for years… Why should I change?"

Coruwen looked over at the river and then stood. "In any case, I suggest you stay to your own priorities and I stay to mine, prince. I am returning back to Imladris, if you wish to follow me then so be it."

He took that moment to stand and follow her with his horse following him like a lost puppy. He watched her walk ahead of him almost appearing like a spirit. Her dress floated around her in waves of grey and grass green that were contrasting her gold hair and pale complexion. He could have sworn he saw her old self shining through that mask she wore. A piece of him wanted to fix her, but his father had told him to let her fix herself. If she wanted to be fixed, then she would tell him. If not, she would stay as she was. He desperately did not desire the latter.

"Coruwen!" Arwen's voice cried once they entered the carved walkways of Imladris. He saw Coruwen stiffen as Arwen rushed at her in a flurry of silver fabric and dark waves. There was a certain gleam of worry in the daughter of Elrond's eyes as she looked her cousin over that Legolas had never seen before. Quickly, her gaze snapped up to his, "Thank you, Prince Legolas."

For a moment, Legolas was caught off guard by Arwen's statement; but he managed a short bow of his head. The ellith walked off leaving Legolas with his horse, which was sniffing his hair with a strange fervor. He heard a snicker behind an aspen tree and beside it stood Himon.

Behind the tree emerged Calenfaire, who was smirking proudly at the horse. He was dressed in identical garb as his older brother. Legolas whirled on his horse, making the gelding take a step back in fright.

"I give the horse credit, he _actually_ likes you," Himon mocked. Legolas rolled his eyes at the general, who walked toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You cannot fix everything, my lord."

"Do _not_ remind me," Legolas muttered. The gelding nudged him in the back and he yelped in surprise. Calenfaire let out a hearty laugh with his hand gripping the reins of the horse. Legolas shot the horse a glare. "Not funny, horse."

The horse shook his mane out as if in retort which made the ellyn smile. "I'll go put him up before he starts causing trouble," Calenfaire stated as he led the horse off towards the stables. Legolas shifted his gaze upward to Himon, who had abandoned his side to perch himself up in the aspen tree.

"Remember what the Elvenking said, my prince." Himon reminded. Legolas placed a hand over his eyes. He mentally told Himon to get out of his head. "And no, I will not get out of your head."

Legolas' snapped his gaze up to the smirking general; feeling like the ellon was reading his mind. Himon played with the tip of his braid like an elfling. "Stop that," Legolas scolded.

"Stop what?" Himon laughed. He stood, balancing himself on the tree similar to one of the Galadhrim Marchwardens. He was like an agile fox when it would run throughout the forest; the way Himon stood on the branch was a copy of how foxes start across a log. "You are an easy read, my prince. After all, I watched you being trained as a young elfling."

"Your father trained me, thank you."

"I know, you were the first and last student he had outside of family."

"Anyway, how did you know what I was thinking when all thoughts are in my mind?" Legolas felt his irritation boiling in his blood as he watched Himon step down from one high branch to a lower one.

"I am a firm believer that my brother has magical telepathy, but that is physically impossible," Calenfaire said as he appeared beside the prince, slightly frightening him. Legolas mentally growled; he was getting tired of being caught off guard today. If someone made him jump one more time, there might be a small reckoning. Calenfaire walked up to the aspen tree and gave it a hard kick in the trunk; knocking Himon out his perch. Himon glared up at his little brother with contempt glowing in his cerulean eyes. "I just know that my brother can read people in a simple glance. He has been around you and me so much that he just knows."

"You are correct, pup," Himon replied. The reply was followed by a low growl that made the ellon chuckle in victory over his brother. "However, you have been on edge lately. Tell me what has been bothering you."

Legolas felt a nagging feeling tear at his soul in attention. The Nazgûl appearing along with Coruwen's strange behavior were quite bothersome. Maybe it was the fact he wasn't home to ensure the safety of his people… His mind became filled with the sound of 'maybe', and it was giving him a headache. He looked up at the swirling autumn sky with the mixing colors of white and grey. He cleared his head by watching the thin, sheet like clouds. His mind told him that the Nazgûl were his biggest bothers. "The Nazgûl have been on my mind." He told them.

Calenfaire physically shivered, moving closer to his older brother. Himon put his hand on the side of his head and pushed him away. Their relationship reminded Legolas of one he had long ago… It plucked various heartstrings like a string instrument, making his heart ache.

"That is understandable, my lord. The Nine being abroad is bothersome, _but_ that is not what is bothering you." Himon agreed with his voice becoming questioning. Legolas mentally rolled his eyes. Himon was perceptive; a trait that Calendir, Himon and Calenfaire's father, possessed as well. Legolas knew this was why Himon was a general; nothing got by him. "Legolas, speak."

"It is nothing, Himon. The Nine have been in the forefront of my mind, and they bothering me. There is nothing else," Legolas replied shortly. Himon put up his hands in defense of the prince's snap, backing away from his perceptive nature. Legolas let out a breath as his irritation died down in the sea of emotion churning within his spirit. "I apologize for my outburst, Himon."

Himon chuckled, "Nonsense. I understand if you are on edge. You worry for our home, which is understandable."

Calenfaire leaned against the aspen tree, playing with the peeling, white bark. "Does Lord Elrond know if the Nazgûl came from Dol Guldur?" He inquired.

Both ellyn looked to the younger one with furrowed brows. In all honesty, they weren't sure. It seemed logical since Sauron had come from the old fortress many years ago, but they could have come from anywhere. Legolas knew one of the Nine lingered behind whilst the forces within grew. Which one lingered behind, he knew not. It could have been the Witch-King or Khamul since they were the closet to Sauron.

"I believe he doesn't," Himon muttered in thought. One long hand was curled over his mouth as he tapped his foot against the stone walkway. "I do not even know which one lingered."

Legolas ever so slightly narrowed his eyes at Himon. The general's lips curled up in a smirk when their eyes met, knowing he had spoken the words on the prince's mind. There was a heavy tension in the air as the ellyn thought over the position of the Sauron's lieutenants. Legolas' mind drifted off to when Sauron had proclaimed himself known amongst all folk of Middle Earth.

The day was cool, but dry as the scent of orc blood clung to the brisk winds. Battle had ensued that day with arrows whistling songs mingling into the screams of the trees. The ring of metal still clung to the belly of the winds, but the hisses of orcs, goblins, and the chanting of the Black Speech thundered against the sky's ceiling.

Legolas remembered how the fortress of Dol Guldur stood tall with its broken form, ruins practically crumbling away as the orcs clambered over its sides to stand aside for an unknown figure stepped through the crowd, parting the way like a knife. In fact, the parting created a V in its wake. Before them stood a frail creature, in the shape of a man, cloaked in a tattered black cloak. The creature raised its head with one amber eye staring down at the elves. The eye was the epitome of fear and power by itself.

It was Sauron, in a semi corporeal form.

Beside him stood nine figures cloaked in black cloth with blades at their hips and gauntlets of varying irons and designs. The figure closet to Sauron let out a shrill scream that held no equal on this earth. The elves cowered at the scream, many tumbling to the ground in agony. It seemed to make blood turn to ice in everyone's veins as the scream persisted. The beating leathery wings followed the scream; drawing many from their fear induced panic.

Hovering in the sky were ten fell beasts with silvery scales gleaming in the dim light with their serpentine bodies flexing heavily with each pump of their tattered wings. They let out a bellow and turned south, flying off to Mordor, taking the terrible shadow with them.

"I have a feeling Khamûl stayed behind," Himon stated.

Legolas looked up at the general with a bit of curiosity in his eyes. Himon returned the gaze, but his gaze was firm instead. "Why do you suggest that?" Legolas inquired.

Himon shifted the weight back onto his heels. "When Sauron fled, he would not leave Dol Guldur unchecked. Khamul is an Easterling, meaning he would be able to know the weaknesses of Erebor, Dale, Esgaroth, and Mirkwood. He is the most logical choice for the task of destroying the East." Himon explained. Calenfaire nodded in agreement, and Legolas bowed his head to the general's excellent idea. In truth, there was no easy way to depict the Nazgul from the other since they all appeared as black figures cloaked in heavy cloth. "The Witch-King of Angmar is the ruler of Minas Morgul, meaning he cannot leave his post in the old city, and the others are not high enough rank to control an army or keep tabs on a citadel."

"No wonder you are the right hand of my father," Legolas praised.

Himon bowed low. "No one else is best suited, my prince."

"That does not mean you get to be arrogant." Legolas chastised. Calenfaire snickered from his place behind the tree. The prince walked up to the general, placing his hand the ellon's shoulder. "That job belongs to someone else."

Himon looked surprised with a sly smile on his face. "Oh?"

"Whoever that person is, I don't know."

Calenfaire snickered, with an identical sly smile on his face to that of his brother. Had they not been parted by age, they could have mistaken for twins. The only quality that drew them apart was their height, and ever so slight drop in voice. "That aside, when are we going to return to Mirkwood?"

"When the Council is finished, the Ring-bearer is named, and the quest is made final," The prince instructed. "My father will want to know everything in the aftermath, thus I will send him a letter."

Both brothers bowed to their prince. "Of course, my lord," They said in unison.

* * *

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	8. Chapter 8

_**Morgul Blade**_

* * *

A white horse cantered up to the entrance of Imladris carrying a small rider, who was leaning over the horse's mane. The horse let out a shrill neigh summon others to him as he threw his head back in worry. In response, Elrond ran up to the horse and grabbed its reins soothing the horse a great deal. He lifted aside the hood of the tiny rider to find dark curls dripping with water and sweat; blank blue eyes were veined with black as the rider panted.

Elrond swept the rider into his arms seeing as the mortal was no bigger than a child, and no heavier in fact. The lord looked up at the white stallion, giving him a faint smile. "Thank you, Asfaloth," Elrond thanked as he walked off to the Houses of Healing. The Halfing in his arms shivered, and his panting became shallow barely noticeable to Elrond's trained eyes. He summoned several healers to him and began to free the hobbit of the shadow that loomed over his head like a reaper.

* * *

Arwen sat beside Coruwen and Lindir as they watched Elrond depart the Hall of Fire with a strange swiftness in his gait. The ellith exchanged a look between each other, deciding to follow the Lord of Imladris. A white horse came trotting up to Elrond delivering a hobbit to the lord, which he took and left the horse alone. The stallion circled around impatiently, swinging his elegant head around making his wavy mane flop around him. Arwen saw Coruwen dart forward to the horse, who greeted her with a soft whinny and nudge in the side. The elleth took the stallion's reins, stroking the bridge of his nose with gentle fingertips.

"Who does he belong to, Arwen?" Coruwen inquired as the stallion nudged Arwen in greeting. She laughed at the contact and began repeating the same gesture as her cousin to the stallion.

"He belongs to Glorfindel. If memory serves, his name is Asfaloth," Arwen replied thoughtfully. At the sound of his name, Asfaloth neighed happily causing a smile to form on the faces of the ellith. "Apparently, my memory is quite good."

"He is handsome," Coruwen whispered as she brought down a section of snow white mane to rest perfectly in the centre of Asfaloth's forelock. The stallion bumped Coruwen in the side with his black nose making her squeak. Arwen giggled at the sound and Coruwen's cheeks turned a light pink. "Asfaloth, no."

The sound of five people made Arwen turn her attention around Asfaloth. Glorfindel led three people behind him, and the Elf-Lord appeared slightly haggard. Aragorn was behind in between a small, rotund Halfling. The pack upon its shoulders was burdened with many odd tools such a frying pan and a small wooden box. Arwen tugged on the sleeve of her cousin and together they greeted the lord, Dúnedan, and Halflings.

One of them was a Took named Pippin, who had gold curly hair and blue-grey eyes that were bright with youth. He played with the pommel of his sword when the ellith greeted him. Pippin was quite skinny compared to the one named Samwise Gamgee, who was blonde as well, but not as bright Pippin nor as red as the third hobbit named Merry. Coruwen saw Bilbo's meek behavior in these three seeing as they had never left home before, but unlike him, they craved the idea of following their friend, Frodo. Well, the Took and Brandybuck did; Sam wasn't very keen on leaving the Shire for so long.

Arwen pointed the hobbits in the direction of Lindir, who took them to a set of chambers for them to rest. That left Glorfindel and Aragorn behind, both of which desired a bit of rest. While Arwen led the Dúnedan and Elf Lord to another section of Imladris, she decided to put Asfaloth away in the stables since Glorfindel had failed to do so. Under normal pretenses, he would have put his horse away, but Coruwen could see the physical exhaustion in his face as he came up to the entrance. She walked up to Asfaloth, greeting him with sweet coos and clicks of her tongue. The stallion was not weary of her, and placed his angular head beneath her slender hand. She smiled at his trustworthiness in her, and she grabbed his reins, sliding them over his head so he could be led along. Asfaloth walked behind her, stopping when they came to the stables.

"Brilliant Asfaloth," Coruwen whispered as she removed his tack. His head was low to the ground with his eyes shut as she removed his saddle. Every so often she would reach up and touch his soft ears, which would make them twitch a bit. Giddiness filled her as she poked his ears, delighting in the fact they twitched. It didn't take much some times to please her. She walked up to his head stooping to remove the bridle. The bit slid free of his mouth as he slept standing up. "Awaken; you can sleep more in your stall."

The stallion raised his head and walked into the stable, finding his place beside Ithil and then drifting back asleep. Ithil raked one hoof on the ground when she walked past her, but Coruwen simply patted Ithil's nose as she locked Asfaloth's stall. The scent of horse clung to her hands because of Ithil's nudging thus making her have to wash the scent away.

After that, she found Arwen, Aragorn, and Glorfindel on a porch overlooking a large stretch of the Bruinen. Aragorn nibbled on bits of bread each time Arwen would turn away, which made Coruwen smile, shaking her head. The Dúnedan inclined his head to her as she walked up to the side of Glorfindel, who was watching the Bruinen with a distant look in his eye.

"It is has been a long time since I spoke to you last, sister," Aragorn said running a hand through his dark hair. It was already mussed from the walk to Imladris; in truth his hands running through it did not help much. "Where have you been hiding?"

"Lothlórien," Coruwen replied, "And among shorter periods of time, Mirkwood, Dale, Erebor, and Esgaroth." He shifted his weight onto his heels, one hand curling around the pommel of his sword.

"That is right, you are the Dragon Queen," Aragorn stated thoughtfully. Arwen glanced up from the ground, looking at Coruwen with a bit of uneasiness. There was a bit of nervousness that Coruwen saw flash in Arwen's face as she looked between Aragorn and her. "How come you have not returned to Imladris since?"

"Never had the time to, I suppose," She answered. She felt eyes on her other than those of Aragorn and Arwen. Blurrily, she could see Glorfindel looking at her, though she could not read the expression on his face. She tore her gaze away from the lord, and tucked strands of gold hair behind her ear. "But I am sure you are not curious about me. Tell me, what has the son of Arathorn been up to since I saw him last? I saw you once or twice in Mirkwood when I made my yearly rounds… Surely you do not still hunt Gollum?"

Aragorn nodded, his face becoming grave. He started to slowly pace around the bench that Arwen sat on, and she shut her eyes as he did so. "In fact, I do. Himon, Legolas, and I took it upon ourselves to hunt the creature. He has yet to be found once more, which bothers me." The Dúnedan's brow furrowed. "Gollum is elusive like a snake, and more cunning than I would have guessed."

"He was within inches of attacking me a few months ago. Had Himon not stepped forth with his blade, I would most likely have been cut by the creature."

"Did you ever gain information?"

"Nay, the only thing he said was something about a hobbit. But it no longer concerns us anymore. Granted, it intrigued Thranduil, but he has to focus on the matters of his people who are being carried off by creatures from Dol Guldur."

"The fortress still unleashes its darkness?" Glorfindel's voice asked behind her. She turned her head to see a deep confusion and agitation flashing in his eyes. It surprised her to hear his voice behind her. She nodded hesitantly, and the lord sighed heavily, "That is most troubling."

"Though not to be expected," Coruwen said gently. He met her eyes, and what little negative emotion clouded his eyes faded away as he smiled gently. Coruwen placed her hands behind her back, knitting her slender fingers together. "Dol Guldur has been under the watch of Smaug and Radagast. The two together are doing an excellent job of handling the forces within."

Arwen smiled at the sound of the latter statement, for Smaug still intrigued her since she had yet to see one of the great beasts first hand. Coruwen saw her storm grey eyes brighten up. "Smaug the Golden lives in the Black Mountains?" She inquired. Arwen loved hearing about the Great Dragons; every time they were mentioned Coruwen had to tell her about Freya's adventures or that of Heimdall's great guard. Curtly, Coruwen nodded to her cousin. "Why there and not in Ered Mithrin?"

"Smaug has to leave the nest eventually," Coruwen said simply. The other three laughed at the remark, and then Coruwen's lightened with a faint smile. Something bothered her deep within herself as she walked up to the railing again. "However, lately Smaug cannot fly because of the Nazgul flying overhead. He can deal with just about any living creature, but the Nazgul and their flying beasts have been an issue."

"What does Radagast think?" Glorfindel wondered, turning to her. The two elves looked at each other and the lady shook her head. Glorfindel let out a puff of air that sounded rather irritated to her ears. His brow knit together in thought as he leaned one hand upon a smooth, grey stone that was inlaid into the wall. "Surely the Istar must know something."

Aragorn chuckled, looking skyward with a look of amusement in his eyes. "Have you not met Radagast before? He has a big heart, yes, but his mind sometimes wanders elsewhere." This statement was, sadly, true for Radagast since he was never always present with everyone. Coruwen found it difficult to maintain an aura of calm around the busy Istar. She truthfully enjoyed the company of both Gandalf and Radagast, for Gandalf calmed Radagast when he became too absent-minded.

"Tis true," Coruwen murmured. "I've known Radagast for sixty years and he has yet to give straight answers, and will wander off if a robin comes flying by."

Glorfindel shook his head, "No, no, I am asking if he knows a way for the Dragon Prince to fly."

"Oh…" Coruwen tapped her fingers on the stone wall with her fingers twirling one gold wave. She did not know how to answer Glorfindel. The only creature that could attack as Nazgul and survive would be Heimdall. The Emerald Keeper was a living wall with his broad shoulders and tough hide. Freya and Smaug were fire dragons, they were meant to deal damage to creatures or buildings; not withstand tons of force. "I will say this; the only creature that can contend with a Nazgûl in flight is Freya's mate, Heimdall."

"His name is Gate Keeper?" The lord questioned eyeing her curiously. Coruwen smiled gently, to which he blinked in curiosity. She assumed that he had never heard the use of such a name before. "Why such a bold name?"

"One day, you will meet Heimdall, and you will understand why he has that name along with the namesake Emerald Keeper." Glorfindel nodded in mutual understanding. "The reason I say we could use Heimdall is because of his sheer size. Freya is quite massive herself, but Heimdall is at least a head taller and tail length longer than she."

"He sounds huge," Arwen muttered.

Aragorn sighed, "There isn't a word to describe the Emerald Gate Keeper. At least not in any word I can think of."

"I agree with you, Aragorn," Coruwen said under her breath. Aloud, she said, "If I may, Aragorn, what exactly happened to the small hobbit that rode on Asfaloth?"

Both Elf Lord and Dúnedan turned their attention to her, but the elleth was indeed very serious. Her eyes were affixed on them, a feeling of sense of urgency growing in her heart. That hobbit would've fallen had Elrond not been there to catch him.

"The Witch-King stabbed him in the heart upon Weathertop. From what I could see, the Morgul blade has been sinking closer and closer to his heart. Glorfindel arrived in time to soothe the pain as he slipped into the Shadow World, but he needed the hand of Lord Elrond." The Dúnedan explained. "The Nine pursued us upon the Road, and thus we had to use Asfaloth to send Frodo away."

Coruwen walked over to Arwen's side as the elleth cast her gaze downward. Clearly, the ellith were troubled by the news of the Nine. Aragorn was at Arwen's side quite quickly and took her hand in his own. Coruwen took a step back, bumping into the chest of Glorfindel, who placed his hands on her shoulders. His touch was gentle, and his gaze inquisitive.

"The Nine were swept away by the river when they attempted to chase Frodo," Glorfindel stated drawing the attention of the ellith. "You two should not be burdened by worry."

Arwen sighed, "It is not the current state of the Nazgûl that bothers me. It is what is to come that I fear." Coruwen nodded in agreement. "Never before have the Nine come so close to our borders."

"That is true," The Elf Lord shut his eyes as his mind pieced together words. His hands subconsciously tightened around Coruwen's shoulders making her fidget beneath his grip. His grip was almost too tight on her. Ever so gently, she reached up touching his hand making him flinch. He relaxed his firm grip on her and her hand returned to her side. "Do not worry, Lady Arwen. The Nazgul are far from here, and they most likely cannot return without the aid of mounts."

"He is right, Arwen," Aragorn soothed in a low voice. He released her hand, stood, and then stood at the low stone wall again to watch the Bruinen as Glorfindel had. "The Nazgul are far from here, and no doubt your father's magic protects these lands."

"Aragorn…" Arwen whispered. There was a certain tone in her voice that both Coruwen and Glorfindel heard, which told them to leave to elsewhere. Glorfindel squeezed her shoulders once more, removing his hands from her shoulders and starting down a small flight of steps. She ran after him and attempted to match his long strides but found it rather difficult. She saw a playful smirk touch his face causing her inner curiosity to prod her.

Glorfindel stopped by an aspen tree, running his hand across the pale bark. A small meow made both elves turn their attention to a small, fluffy white cat with bright blue eyes sitting precariously on a stone hedge. It preened its snow white foot with its pink tongue and began to wash its face. She heard a chuckle from Glorfindel as he walked up to the cat.

"Hello, Nínim," The lord cooed as he tried to reach out for the fluffy cat. Nínim raised one little paw up to Glorfindel's hand and slashed the air. He jerked his hand back, awaiting the cat to stop her fight. Coruwen approached the cat and reached out for her and yelped when Nínim's claws cut her wrist. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, it's just a cat scratch," Coruwen replied quietly as she held her stinging hand. It stung more than it hurt honestly. "Who does Nínim belong to?"

Glorfindel scooped up the cat, "Erestor. Nínim is the _one_ thing he loves more than his books," He said. Coruwen giggled at the snide comment drawing his dark blue gaze over to her. "Did you laugh?"

Coruwen looked at the floor and then up at him. Did she truly laugh? It was almost so foreign that she was second guessing if she had truly done it. "I-I suppose I did," She whispered. Glorfindel shifted the fluffy cat in his arms, ignoring her hisses of protest. He gave her a soft smile before starting towards a long corridor. "Where are you going?"

"I was thinking it would be a good idea to return Nínim to her beloved," Glorfindel's voice echoed off of the walls and Coruwen followed after him to a mahogany door that was cracked open letting amber tendrils of light to slip through. Within, she could hear Glorfindel's voice chiding Erestor, who only grumbled as his fellow lord bothered him. "Erestor, come outside for a while."

"No," Erestor snapped. "I have work to do, Glorfindel. If you are going to stand here-,"

"I won't leave until you come outside," He stated. Coruwen felt something brush up against her leg making her glance down, ignoring the bickering lords. Nínim. The fluffy cat was staring up at her with wide, icy eyes with her ears flicking back when Erestor spoke. What was the word that described this cat? Fickle was the best word. Coruwen ran a hand across Nínim's head and rubbed her plush ears with two fingers.

"Where did Nínim go?" Erestor asked cutting off Glorfindel's quip. Coruwen glanced up at the door and then felt pain on the top of her hand. A piercing, hot pain that made her glare at Nínim. The feline had taken to biting her with her blue eyes narrowed at the elleth's hand. She pried Nínim's daggers off of her hand, rubbing the place where her teeth had sunken into her flesh. Erestor appeared in the doorway and scooped up the cat in his arms. His hazel eyes flicked over to her and then at her hand. "Nínim, did you bite Coruwen?"

"Yes, she did," Coruwen answered flatly. "Your cat is fickle."

Erestor lightly flicked Nínim's pink nose making her squint her eyes in pain. Coruwen mentally smirked at the cat's punishment. Fickle little cat, she thought. "I am terribly sorry; she seems to do that to everyone. Even," Erestor flinched when Nínim bit his hand, "Me."

"Why does _that_ surprise me?" Glorfindel laughed as he slid past Erestor. Coruwen watched Nínim closely; she sat in the middle of the corridor with her fluffy tail wrapped around her slim legs while her blue eyes stared down the hall. "Oh look, she's glaring at us."

"Nínim, come," Erestor ordered as he disappeared into the library again. Coruwen saw Nínim stand and pad back into the room with her tail head high in a rather pompous manner. She felt a hand on her left arm making her tense up. Glorfindel looked at her quizzically, his blue eyes looking at her face and then his hand that rested gently on her arm. His touch was gentle, but enough to make her nerves begin to dance and sting in her arm like hot sand crawling beneath her skin. Smoothly, she slid his hand off of her arm.

"I will take my leave of you now, my lord," Coruwen whispered as the burning sensation dissipated in her arm. He gave her a bow of her head allowing her leave his company. The feeling of the Goblin King's nails digging into her arm made her shudder and seek the comfort of a wall. The creature's scream in her ears, that horrific shriek as the creature tossed her onto the boarded ground. She hated it… She hated the scar that marred her left arm. She could no longer pull on the reins of a horse or pull back a bowstring, nor could she even be touched without the pain rising to the surface. She honestly was growing tired of it haunting her steps, but knew there was little she could do to fix the injury.

* * *

As Coruwen walked out to the stables, she heard someone following her. The footsteps were soft on the ground, lighter than those of the elves. Golden curls were what she spied when she glanced back. Pippin was standing behind a bush with his golden hair crowning the bush.

"I see I have a shadow," Coruwen remarked as she walked up to the bush and placing her hand gently on Pippin's head. His eyes flicked up and he gave her a bright smile. "What are you doing out here by yourself, little one?"

"I came searching for you," Pippin answered. "Where are you off to, my lady?"

"The stables, if you would like to accompany me," She told him. Coruwen started off to the stables again with Pippin trailing after her, quieter than a church mouse. Every so often she would stop allowing him to catch up; his youth gave him a great amount of energy, but not enough to keep up her fast gait. Her heart was troubled; the thought of her arm was nagging at her like an old crone. A gentle tug came to her dress causing her to glance down. "What is it, young Pippin?"

"Why are you so sad?" Pippin asked innocently as he perched himself on a low stone hedge. Coruwen blinked in shock at the statement. It seemed to be easy to answer, but she could not form the words. They were stuck in her throat held in place by her heart. "You don't have to answer; I was just a tad curious."

All she could do was hum a response as they started off towards the stables once more with Pippin leading. She was mute the rest of time, her thoughts wandering to why she could not answer that simple question. Pippin stopped before the stable door, allowing her to enter first. She smiled at his generosity. Not as meek as Bilbo, a tad foolhardy, she thought as she reached Ithil's stall.

Pippin crept past the great horses, watching Coruwen closely. She was stroking a dun mare gently as if the mare were her child. He plopped himself on a stool to watch the lady as she interacted with the horse. His question had clearly bothered her earlier; she became quiet, deathly quiet. What had he done? Had he offended her? He was simply stating what he saw; she looked lost and sad to him.

For the short while he had been in Rivendell, he had noted that she did not smile, laugh or sing like the others. She was reclusive and only spoke to the Lady Arwen and a few times to Strider. Bilbo had told him and Frodo the story about the lady before him. Bilbo always spoke of her highly; she was strong-willed and calm. This elleth was _not_ the lady of Bilbo's stories; quite the opposite in fact. When he looked into her eyes, he saw sorrow; not happiness or nobility.

Pippin glanced down at the floor and kicked his legs as the silence prodded him. Coruwen was speaking to the mare in the elf-tongue which the horse responded with stamps of her feet or tosses of her head. As he watched Coruwen and her horse, he saw similarities to what Glorfindel had done with his horse. The horses seemed almost human-like with their masters; they responded to their names and seemed to speak through their actions.

"Lady Coruwen?" Pippin asked, drawing her attention away from the mare. She knelt before him, her blue eyes giving him permission to speak once more. "Will Frodo be all right?"

Coruwen stood and ran a hand through a section of her gold hair. "I would not know the answer to such a question, but he is in the hands of Lord Elrond now. From what I have experienced with hobbits, they are exceptionally hardy." Her slender hand passed through his hair causing much of it to fall in his eyes. A soft smile creased her face as she ruffled his hair. "Frodo will be fine."

A small bit of faith blossomed in his chest at the sight of her smile. The sight of seeing Frodo becoming torn up bit by bit was unsettling to him. The whimpers and gasps he made while they traveled on the road still echoed in his ears. He silently wished Frodo was going to pull through.

* * *

_-October 24, 3018-_

The days passed with no word telling them about Frodo's condition. Coruwen noticed that Pippin would often seek her out and speak with her while Sam stayed with Frodo. On a few occasions, Pippin would bring his cousin Merry with him to speak with her, but Merry's mind would go astray easily. Pippin had yet to appear this day; she was busy tending to Ithil when she heard a voice humming a song in the doorway of the stables. It was Calenfaire she heard as he grabbed Talt and another horse before leaving.

"Where are you going?" She inquired making Calenfaire freeze in place. One cerulean eye flicked back at her before he turned to face her fully. "Calenfaire…."

The ellon traded the reins of a horse into another, "The prince has sent Himon and I to scout the surrounding areas. He fears the Nazgûl," Calenfaire stated. "I see no point in sending us, but then again, I'm not the prince."

"He has every right to be unnerved about the Nazgûl. Where has he been hiding?"

Calenfaire chuckled as he started out of the stables. "He's been with Mithrandir on a few occasions and has been having archery competitions with the twins. I don't know where he is as we speak, but I'm sure he will appear eventually."

Ithil nudged Coruwen hesitantly but the elleth stopped her muzzle. It troubled her that the prince had not spoken to her in a few days. She had snapped at him when he attempted to help her. Slowly, she began to tack Ithil and when the saddle was placed on her back, she began to become anxious.

"Ithil," Coruwen scolded, attempting to grab her reins to stop her. "Ithil, stop it."

"Easy," A voice soothed, gripping Ithil's reins. Coruwen peered up at Glorfindel, who was staring darkly at the anxious mare. Nervously, she glanced down at the ground. "Strange, Asfaloth did the same."

"What?" Her gaze returned to his face and he handed her back Ithil's reins.

Glorfindel clicked his tongue, outstretching his hand for Asfaloth, who touched his master's hand gently. "Asfaloth had an outburst like that a few hours ago." He stroked the stallion's forelock gently with the back of his hand. She began to busy herself with tacking Ithil again when she felt her mare nudge her playfully. Coruwen straightened back up, catching Ithil's happy gaze. "My lady?"

"Yes?" Coruwen replied as she led Ithil out of the stables. Glorfindel was standing beside Asfaloth while his horse butted his head against his maser's shoulder in play. She withheld a small giggle at the sight.

"Would you care to accompany me on a ride?"

Coruwen looked at Ithil, stroking her neck softly. She saw no harm in it. Arwen had been telling her to stop being withdrawn and to do something she loved. It would be a way to keep herself occupied. "I would love to."

The lord gave her a bright smile, giving her a gesture to go ahead of him. When she was outside, she mounted Ithil, her left arm giving her grief as she gripped the saddle horn. She blinked away the pain that bit at her. Glorfindel mounted Asfaloth gracefully, and rode up beside her giving her a questionable look. The looks he gave her; they seemed to be asking questions of their own. Coruwen felt a small tug in the back of her mind to ask him why. She gave him a soft, shy smile before he flashed a smile her way as Asfaloth started off into a canter.

"Wait a minute!" Coruwen shouted as Ithil leapt into the gait between a fast trot and a slow canter. Glorfindel's laugh only made her grow more and more flustered as she chased after him out of Imladris. Ithil picked up her pace rather quickly when a log stood between her and chasing Asfaloth. The feeling of being on a horse once more lifted Coruwen's spirits a bit more, and being with someone made it even lighter. She stopped Ithil when she spied Asfaloth halted before the Bruinen. "What happened to waiting?"

Glorfindel glanced over his shoulder with an innocent look on his face. "I have done nothing. In terms of speed, I was faster than you, my lady," He answered. "I will be slower on the way back, I promise."

Coruwen giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. "If you see fit to do so, then do it," She dismounted Ithil, stroking the mare's neck. The world was quiet around them aside from the gentle chirping of birds and the muffled roar of the river. The world was quiet like this once before, though it was a long time ago. Subconsciously, her fingers feathered onto her left arm.

"If I may, what happened to your arm?" Glorfindel's voice inquired snapping her out of her thoughts. She whirled around, clutching her hands behind her back. The stretching of the muscles would've typically caused her to wince, but she had to hide her pain. "You do not have to tell me if you do wish to, my lady."

Did she wish to tell him? For years, Arwen had prodded her about the state of her arm. Arwen was a dear friend and would gladly listen to her, but her heart leapt to her throat each time she tried to speak about the journey to Erebor. A hard lump formed in her throat as her fingers coiled around her elbow. Her eyes wandered to the dry bank at her feet and she felt two fingers tip up her face to meet the eyes of the lord before her. He had been kind to her all the while she had known him. Whilst living in Imladris sixty years ago, she had known him and Erestor well.

"Coruwen," Glorfindel said gently. "Why do you force your gaze to the floor? You are not a lowborn. You may look at me."

"My arm is a sensitive subject, Glorfindel," Coruwen replied, her voice being forced down by the stress that was building in her chest. She let out a soft breath, she felt as if she could tell him. His words were gentle, and he had treated her kindly. Why she could speak to him and not Arwen dumbfounded her. "My arm… My arm was permanently injured by the Goblin King of the Misty Mountains. He was trying to force information out of me about the company." The next words stuck to her throat, attempting to crawl their way back into the recesses of her lungs. "I-I can no longer use it because of what he did."

"What did he do to it exactly?" The lord's fingers brushed over her hand making her release her hand. He glanced down at her, his eyes asking permission to look at her arm. She swallowed hard and rolled up her sleeve revealing the scar on her arm. Though there was no muscle loss, the skin was white and stretched in the form of three jagged scars. "They look fine to my trained eyes."

"The muscles were sundered from the bone but Mithrandir was able to heal it enough to where it could be functional. He explained to me that it would never be the same. It has left me with a bit of frustration ever since."

"Can you wield a bow?"

"No, and I can barely lift myself onto Ithil," She let out a short sigh of annoyance. She rolled down her sleeve feeling slightly frustrated that her arm's condition still plagued her. "I despise this arm of mine; if I could go back and fix it I would."

"Some things happen in this world so we may overcome them. You and I both have had our fair share of troubles. Think of your arm as an obstacle that needs to be worked around. I am currently working through one as we speak and have been dealing with it for some time now."

Coruwen's curiosity piqued and she let out a huff of laughter. She smiled slyly, "Oh? Tell me of your obstacle, my lord. I spoke to you about one of mine."

Glorfindel chuckled as he started back towards Asfaloth. "I sadly cannot. I do enjoy having my secrets, you know." Coruwen blinked in shock at the playfulness in his voice. That seemed to be what he did when he was in her presence. "You should smile more often. It befits you far more than you believe it does."

Asfaloth greeted Glorfindel with a mighty stamp of his feet, tossing back his elegant head. The ellon raised his hand up to the stallion's nose and when he turned Asfaloth leaned against his master. The lord gently pushed the horse away, only for the horse to bump his master's head once more sending the ellon's gold hair into his eyes. Coruwen walked up to Asfaloth, grabbing the stallion's face as Glorfindel fixed his hair.

"We should probably be heading back, word has reached me that the dwarves and men of the south have arrived," Coruwen stated, releasing the horse's face. Glorfindel gave her a nod when he had mounted Asfaloth. The two rode back to see a man standing on a series of steps speaking with Lindir. Coruwen and Glorfindel led their horses back to the stables and when she spoke, he slightly jumped. His thoughts must have wandered elsewhere when he saw the man as well. "Is that man a Gondorian?"

"Yes," Glorfindel replied quietly.

"Is something wrong?" The lord looked away from her towards the Gondorian with a stern glance. Men lust for power, she thought. She knew the Ring was in Imladris once more and Men had long since been the issue when it came to the Ring's destruction. "Glorfindel?"

His dark blue eyes returned to her eyes and he gave her a small smile. "Thank you for gracing me with your presence, Lady Coruwen. I need to speak with Lord Elrond upon a matter, but I will seek you out later." He gave her a slight bow of his head to which she returned, still puzzled to what was bothering him. She watched him depart her side, disappearing from sight.

After removing Ithil's tack, Coruwen stood at her mare's side, rubbing her ears as she mentally began asking herself questions. Why had he disappeared? What was bothering him so? Noise came from behind her and she stopped stroking Ithil's ears. Legolas stood in the entrance to the mare's stall, eyeing the horse curiously.

"You lulled her to asleep," Legolas commented as he approached her. "I did not know that was possible."

Coruwen smiled faintly, "Faenaur enjoyed having his ears scratched as well. I thought she would like it. What brings you here, my prince?"

Legolas flicked his gaze down to her and he offered her his hand. As she took it, he spoke, "A certain friend of yours has been looking you; As well as Frodo."

Her heart skipped a beat for a moment, "He's awake and moving?"

"You know hobbits; it will take more than a Morgul blade to stop them. In some cases, I have also heard that dragons will not even stop them."

"I'm surprised."

"Are you truly?"

"Yes," She stopped as they stood before the steps when the loud, booming laugh of Dain Ironfoot was heard mingled with laugh of Gloín and Gimli. In the midst of all the laughter was a much lighter toned voice belonging to Bilbo and Frodo. They had come after all, she thought, I thought as much. She felt Legolas' hand slip free of hers causing her to glance up at him; he gave her a gesture to go seek the others out and speak with them. She walked up to the door, her fingers gracing the door that stood in front of her and the people within the room.

Upon opening the door, Frodo looked to her and then nudged Bilbo a bit to get his attention. Bilbo smiled and motioned her over to his side. When she sat beside Bilbo, Frodo looked at his uncle curiously.

"Frodo, don't stare," Bilbo said sternly. "This is Lady Coruwen; Coruwen, this is my nephew, Frodo."

"Wait, _the_ Lady Coruwen? The elven lady of Thorin Oakenshield's company?" Frodo asked in awe. She smiled, giving him an affirmative nod. His blue eyes widened, "Then are they real?"

"What?" She replied, glancing over at Bilbo, who was merely smiling.

The young hobbit fidgeted a bit in his seat, running a hand through his dark hair. "The… The dragons are they real?" He asked quietly.

"Yes, very much so, and if you wanted I could arrange for you to meet them."

Frodo's smiled big like an awe struck child. "I'd love to meet them. Bilbo spoke of them rather highly." Coruwen glanced over at the hobbit in question, and he began mumbling under his breath. His brown eyes shifted up to hers and he then returned to his lap. "What is it like to be around them?"

"Small, very, very small," Coruwen laughed. "But aside from their sheer size, they are gentle, majestic creatures. Well, most of them, Smaug can be testy."

"Can be?" Dain snorted. "Smaug is the epitome of a male dragon; hot headed and arrogant." The king stroked his beard and Gloín chuckled. Coruwen shook her head, holding back a small retort that tapped her vocal chords. "Lady Coruwen, I think I have neglected to tell you that the Easterlings have been spotted scouting near our borders. Brand has been keeping eyes locked near the Iron Hills as a result."

The elleth folded her hands in her lap, thinking over the news. _"The Easterlings must be moving towards Mordor," _she thought. _"With any luck, Erebor and the east will not be affected by them." _

"Do you have any idea where they might off to?" Dain asked, interrupting her thoughts. She gave him a concerned look making him grunt and tug on his beard slightly. "You have no idea, do you?"

The lady sighed and stood, "I do not, sadly." As she started to leave, she heard Dain's heavy footsteps follow her out of the room. The relief that once occupied her heart had faded; worry began to cloud it once more. "Dain, what is it you want of me?"

"Does the east mean nothing to you?" He snapped. She hesitantly turned to face him, catching the anger in his features. "Are you abandoning us?"

"I won't, Dain. But my place is elsewhere now, I cannot return to Erebor on a whim."

Dain let out a deep growl, "Who gave you that title? Does his memory mean nothing to you?"

Coruwen's heart jolted painfully in her chest and she placed a hand over it. _Why_ did he bring this up? The king stared up at her with great fury glowing in his eyes. She let out a shaky breath, "My title is something he gave me out respect. But you know my place amongst my kindred. If war comes then it comes, but I cannot leave those who need me."

"What if _we _need you?

"Then you need me, but that does not mean I will come back to Erebor."

"If you do come, will you bring the dragons? They are your pets, after all."

Coruwen's blood boiled at his comment. The dragons trusted her; they were neither her pets nor her slaves. She placed her hand on Dain's shoulder, digging her nails into the leather. "They are not my pets, Dain."

"They surely act as though they are," The king removed her hand from his shoulder. "If those damned Easterlings do come, and we are attacked and my mountain lay to waste. Then he _and _the boys will be desecrated and their memory wiped away from every bit of history and all that will remain will be the memories."

"Why are you doing this?"

"You need to make a choice." Dain turned on his heel and returned to Gloín and Gimli.

* * *

**A/N: First off, sorry for no chapter yesterday. It was Mother's Day here in the US and FF wasn't being very kind to me either, like not telling me when some people clicked certain helpful buttons.. :/ Anyway, the chapters here and hope you all like it! **

**Author Review Answer time: **

**Glorelwen: He did not at that moment in time, we're getting to the council. I'm having to tweak that part of the story a tad since I follow the book for the most part. There are a few parts of the movies I will go off of, but not too many. And I did, i'm keeping a little score sheet over here for those wanting to place tabs. :) I changed the genre because I had a serious sit down with myself and then had a realization to change it because of what this story is about. Glad to hear from you! :) **

**Please Review! They really help motivate me! **


	9. Chapter 9

_**The Worries of the World**_

* * *

_"Courage is found in unlikely places." –J.R.R Tolkien_

_-October 25, 3018-_

* * *

Pippin watched the pale sun rise up from behind the mountains that morning with Frodo, Sam, and Merry. The young hobbit played with the hem of his waistcoat in thought as Frodo and Sam departed him and Merry. Sam had been awfully quiet the past few hours that they had been up; something was clearly bothering him. The sound of Bilbo's voice made Pippin's attention swivel down the outdoor corridor, where he heard Gandalf along with the elderly hobbit speaking.

"Pip, don't eavesdrop," Merry told him, departing the stone hedge he had been occupying. Pippin glanced back at Merry, but merely shrugged at his cousin. "Pippin…"

"You know, Merry, I never considered it before… But we _could_ sneak into that council thingy that Frodo's going to," Pippin stated. Merry sighed, shaking his head. "What? I think it's a brilliant idea."

"Oh it is, Pip. If you want to get into a heap of trouble," Merry countered. Pippin heard the words: pot, kettle, and calling black, in his mind. Merry nervously ran a hand through his hair. Who typically came up with the hair-brained ideas? It was most certainly not him… "Pippin, you're staring at me funny."

Pippin rolled his eyes as a smirk painted itself across his face. "Come on, you know it sounds like a good idea." Merry frowned, and then glanced down the terrace lined corridor. His cousin shared a cryptic look with him and then he sighed defeated. Pippin smiled, victorious over his cousin. "I told you."

"I suppose I need to get better at saying no,"

"No, I'm just _that_ good at convincing you."

The two cousins shared a laugh, but were stopped short by the sound of a cat mewing nearby. Pippin's eyes searched the room, landing on a white cat. He had never seen any other animal besides horses being kept by the elves. Pip did not like cats very much; they typically scratched him, but this one was oddly fluffy and almost doll-like with its big, blue eyes and cute pink nose. The cat mewed again, its pink tongue licking its lips as it began to preen its fur.

"Cat?" Merry asked, approaching the cat cautiously. "Here kitty, here kitty-kitty."

"Merry don't provoke it," Pippin whispered as he watched his cousin walk up to the cat. "It may eat you."

Merry shot him a confused look but simply shrugged. The hobbit scoffed and gently stroked the cat's head. "See Pippin? Its harm-," Merry's speech was cut off by the cat's jaws sinking into his hand with her eyes narrowed up at him. "You little bugger…"

"Nínim, come," A voice ordered. Pippin and Merry glanced over to the voice and saw that Erestor and Glorfindel were standing in the courtyard, shadowed by trees, with the fluffy cat dancing near Erestor's feet. The lord scooped up the cat in his arms and stroked her head gently. Pippin saw Merry biting his lower lip as he held his hand where Nínim had bit him. Serves him right, never trust a cat, Pip thought. When the elf lords were far from sight, Pippin walked over to Merry, giving him a cheeky smile.

"Does it hurt?" Pippin asked. Merry shot him a dirty look. The sound of a door closing and silence made the two glance over at a set of doors that stood closed. Pippin's smile fell instantly, "There went our chance, stupid cat."

"Why do you blame the cat?"

Pippin swept a hand through his hair. "Because, that _cat_ was what stopped us from sneaking in there!" Pippin's thoughts stopped short for a moment, his eyes darting around the courtyard for Sam; no Sam behind the tree or in plain sight. Where in the world was Sam? How hard was it to lose one hobbit? "Uh, Merry, where is Sam?"

"I saw him stop in front of that set of doors when Frodo went inside," Merry answered as he nursed his bitten hand. Merry's blue eyes widened, "You don't think?"

Pippin chuckled nervously, "How could he with a room full of elves? They hear everything." Pippin took Merry's hand in his, observing it closely; the cat had bitten him hard enough to draw blood. "I probably need to see someone about my hand, yeah?"

"Yes," Pippin and Merry started off in search of someone to fix the latter's hand. The duo found Coruwen and Arwen, and Arwen cleaned and bandaged Merry's hand from the cat attack. When the women asked what happened Merry simply told them it was a thorn bush. Arwen inspected the wound before she finished bandaging it.

"It looks an awful lot like some of Nínim's handiwork. She bit Erestor the other day, and I had to do the very same procedure to him," Arwen stated as she made a knot with the bandage's tails. "She's so fickle, that cat."

"She scratched me on the hand," Coruwen added as she closed a drawer that held most of the medical bandages. "And she came close to biting Glorfindel. I don't know what Erestor sees in that cat."

"He loves her," Arwen sighed, "Sadly."

Pippin chuckled and plopped himself on a bench near Coruwen, who was smiling brightly. He caught her smile, a bright pretty smile, and he wondered why she didn't smile more often. She glanced down at him, and gently ruffled his hair.

"How long will the council last?" Merry asked, hiding his face in his hands. Coruwen shook her head, and Arwen sighed. "You two don't know?"

"No, Glorfindel and Legolas have been rather quiet as of yesterday," Coruwen stated. Arwen glanced over her shoulder, giving her a curious look. "Did Aragorn seem uneasy around the man from Gondor?"

"The Steward's son? No, not to my knowledge he hasn't. Why did something happen?"

"Glorfindel became quiet around him."

Arwen let out a hum as she began sorting through various herbs. Pippin watched as Coruwen stood and walked over to the small window that revealed parts of the Misty Mountains in the far distance. Her blue eyes held a distant look in them; it made him curious, curious to why she was looking that way.

"Lady Coruwen, is something the matter?" Pippin asked as he approached her. She jumped a bit, and then began nervously tucking strands of hair behind her ears. "What is in the mountains?"

"A long time friend of mine... I haven't seen her in several months now that I think about it," Coruwen answered quietly.

"Friend?"

The elleth smiled shyly, "Bilbo has met her, and so have Dain's people."

Pippin's eyes went wide. "Freya, the mother of Smaug?"

"Yes, I have been thinking about her as of late."

"How come?" Arwen inquired.

"I miss her… I miss her terribly."

~.~.~

Freya truly enjoyed the sun on her scales. Heimdall had gone off to hunt not too long ago, leaving her with them… The dragoness smiled as pure mirth filled her great heart. Her amber eyes flicked back to the clutch she held near her back feet. They were her own… Her children, and one day they would hatch and become the next generation of her line. Freya glanced down from her clutch of eggs to the stone outcropping she was on.

For months she had been turning the stone black with her fire, the eggs needed to be kept warm. In fact, she had burnt a nice dragon sized ring around herself and her babies in the past months. She chuckled; soon this plateau wouldn't look the same….

Shifting her tail, one egg moved ever so slightly making her catch it with her front paw. This egg was the strangest out the four. A dragon's scale color was the same color as its egg shell. This egg was whiter than driven snow and flecked with gold. Freya had never seen mist dragon clutches before, but she knew for one thing that fire drake eggs were _not_ this color. This egg also happened to be her smallest and could take little heat before the tough outer shell became fleshy. She cradled the egg in her forearms, and laid her head over it to protect it from the sun.

As she lay in the sun with her clutch, a small chipmunk scampered across her path, freezing when her eyes landed on it. She let out a small growl and it squeaked, darting down the hill. The dragoness let out a wisp out smoke until a great beating of wings over head made her glance up. Heimdall hovered overhead with an elk in his jaws and several deer in his paws.

"That was a good hunt, dearest," Freya commented as he landed beside her. She bumped noses with him as he set the elk before her. His eyes flicked down to the runt of the clutch in her forepaws and then back up at her. "It was too warm for this one."

Heimdall settled next to her, wiping the blood from his lips. Gently, he pried the ivory egg from her and settled it back in his own possession. His scales were far cooler than her own. "I must be one of my kin then," Heimdall hummed as he caressed the egg. He glanced back at the others sitting near her back haunches. She followed his gaze to the biggest of the eggs, a deep red egg and seemed almost black in the sun's light. "That one will be the strongest, and this one the weakest."

"Picking favorites?" Freya jested. Heimdall puffed out a bit of steam, and picked up one of the deer before nearly swallowing it whole. Freya watched him intently; he was strong, built like a great wall. Dropping her tone, she spoke once more, "Do you think she will call for us?"

"Who?" Heimdall inquired as he held half of deer in his jaws. With a great snap, he shattered the deer's spine before flipping it up in the air and disappearing into his maw. Freya narrowed her eyes at him, and he returned an equally innocent glance. "Dear one?"

"Aye, mate," Freya mumbled into her elk as she nudged it. Heimdall's snout appeared in her peripheral vision and she let a small warning wisp of fire break out of her lips. She wasn't hungry right now and he wasn't going to steal her food. "The Ring has been found, or so the hawks tell me. As we speak a council is being held to discuss the matter upon its destruction."

"Sounds serious," Heimdall commented dryly. She shot him a glare as he spat out a deer antler and then proceeded to bat it across the edge of the cliff. "Don't look at me like that!"

"What for? You ate those stags in a matter of seconds," Freya snorted. "It almost appears as if you don't hunt every day."

The green dragon chuckled with a wry smile. "Problem is, I do."

"Heimdall, in all seriousness, do you honestly think she will?" Freya had enough of him avoiding the subject. He blinked in shock and then stared at the stone. This war included all of the people of Middle-Earth; dragons included. At one time, the dragons thought they could hide from the world, but it only ended in tragedy. She was not going to make the same mistake her father had made all those years ago.

"She won't if she does not fix herself,"

"What if she does?"

"Freya, what if's never got the world anywhere…" Heimdall tapped his claws on the ground, startling that same chipmunk from earlier into a fright. He sighed, "The Ring's influence is spread oh so very far. Over the years, I have watched the people to the south and east. The people of Rhun will more than likely attack the people of the south. If dear one wishes for us to fight then so be it. But I will not jump to fight."

"You do not trust her?"

Heimdall snorted out steam once more with a snarl curling up the sides of his lips. "I do not trust the creations of the Sky Father…. It is not her fault that I do not trust them. But I do not trust her with my life."

"Heimdall… You said you wouldn't-,"

"And I won't!" His roar echoed off of the walls of their hold and Freya growled dangerously. "My trust in her is small, if she can prove to be valuable to me, _then_ I will trust her. And only then."

"Has she not proven enough?"

"Dear, she has not done anything for me as of yet; aside from giving you to me."

Freya's mighty heart tore itself in half. Heimdall trusted few, and the trust he gave was whole-hearted. He never went back on his word, he never stabbed you in the back; he was honorable to put it simply. He put up a rater excellent façade around those he did not trust, but Freya saw through it. She noted the way he tensed his shoulders, the way his voice stopped becoming smooth, and the little flickers of resentment glowing in the deep yellow eyes he possessed. He had never spoken a word of what made him despise the mortals and elves; frankly, she was no longer curious.

At that moment, Freya nudged the elk over to her mat, and then laid her head down, closing her eyes. She couldn't bring herself to eat; all she truly wanted was to hear the hawk's news when it came. The sun's warmth died when a cloud obscured its brightness, making the dragoness shiver. All she wanted… All she wanted lay in the west, and was being spoken about as she lay in her hold in the mountains…

~.~.~

"So this is Freya's scale?" Calenfaire inquired, observing the deep red scale closely. Coruwen held the scale out for him and Pippin to see. It was found in the Horde of Thror in a pile of discarded weapons and armor. The ellon's fingers ghosted off of the scale and onto the sunstones that hugged the scale's sides. Two of the four were missing. "How does it work?"

"It uses a type of magic that Radagast defined as conjuration, a safer form of necromancy. I haven't used this scale in thirty years," Coruwen told them as she placed the scale back inside of her pack. Calenfaire gave her a puzzled look and she clicked the knapsack shut. "She returned to the scale shortly after the Battle of Five Armies. She didn't want to leave…"

"Then the prince has Smaug's scale, correct?" He asked.

"If he doesn't, then Thranduil does," Coruwen replied shortly as she came to sit beside Arwen, who was flipping through the pages of a book with the occasional glance up at the others. "The two of them swore to keep Smaug in check."

"Bilbo said that Smaug was awfully cantankerous for a dragon. Is that true?" Pippin questioned. Coruwen opened her mouth to answer, but Calenfaire interjected instead.

"Yes, he is. Well, he's more arrogant than cantankerous. I'd say he was more of the latter when he lived in Erebor." The ellon stated. "Regardless, he's still more stubborn than a mule."

That was Smaug in the simplest of words. Coruwen wondered if Scatha was like that as well, or if he gained it from Freya when she was young. Dragons were naturally obstinate creatures, and Smaug was by far the worst. Coruwen clutched the sleeve of her dress in thought, what would happen to them should war come? Freya would come if she asked, and Smaug wouldn't think twice, but Heimdall was very passive. He wouldn't attack unless provoked incessantly.

In the wind, a deep voice began to whisper a strange language. Both Arwen and Coruwen glanced up at the sky; the sun was high yet beginning to darken as if night were falling. A bit of fear shot through Coruwen's heart and she stood to get a better look at the darkening sun to see if it had been a passing cloud. The voice seemed familiar to her, or rather the language. If she listened closely, she could hear the faint words that made her heart stop. That language… The language of Mordor…

"Coruwen? Is something the matter?" Arwen asked, concern tinting her voice. She attempted to answer but was stopped by a great voice, mighty and strong, halting her voice with the language of Mordor resounding throughout Imladris like thunder beating the plain.

_Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul,  
Ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul._

The words tore through her mind, her vision swirled and her heart slowed it her chest. The words crippled her, forcing her to ground while Arwen and Calenfaire were forced to covering their ears. All she could see was Pippin's blurred figure as darkness swallowed her with the words still weaving their ways into the cracks of her mind.

~.~.~

"What did you do?" Himon asked, glaring at his little brother. Glorfindel halted in his steps, looking at the two brothers. Arwen sat on a bench far from them, looking a tad shaken. Curiosity getting the better of him, he slipped around the quarreling brothers and came to sit beside Arwen.

"Me? I was trying to keep Mithrandir's voice out of my head!" Calenfaire snapped back. "I couldn't catch her…"

The lord glanced at Arwen. Her grey eyes were focused upon her hands which were clenched into white knuckled fists. What had happened while they were away? When he tried to stand, Arwen clutched the side of his robe holding him still. When she looked up at him, he caught the worry glowing in her grey eyes. He had a strange feeling- a feeling that was eerily dreadful-that something unexpected had occurred.

"Arwen, what happened?" Glorfindel asked quietly. He kept his voice neutral trying to keep the worry and curiosity out so it did not raise suspicion. He gently loosened her hands from their nervous state and smoothed over the top of her palm.

"It's Coruwen," Arwen murmured. He narrowed his eyes at the mention of the name. The creeping dread poked at him once more. Arwen's voice grew slightly louder. "She… She fainted earlier. I instructed one of the healers to tend to her until Ada finished with his meeting."

Glorfindel knew Elrond was still speaking with Samwise and Frodo… He wouldn't be out for a small while. "I will tend to her," Glorfindel stated in a quiet voice. Arwen stared up at him like a wide-eyed young child, "If you would come with me."

"My lord, you don't need to-," Arwen stammered, trying to stop him. Now he was curious to why Coruwen had collapsed so suddenly. The two started off to the Houses of Healing and Arwen found Coruwen quickly. A healer left the room as soon as the two entered the room. The dim light of the curtains made Coruwen's face appear a dim grey and her hair was spread around her head like an aura of gold waves. Her face was surprisingly peaceful and her breathing even. "I made sure there wasn't an injury to her skull, but I can't seem to wake her."

"Mithrandir is going to need to be more careful with speaking next time," He commented under his breath. He approached Coruwen's side and gently pressed a hand against her cheek. Despite her pallid coloring, she had not lost any warmth to her skin. Removing his hand, he spoke once more to draw Arwen's attention. "I will watch over her. You need not worry, Arwen."

Arwen ungracefully fell into a chair and ran her fingers through sections of her dark hair. Concern was written all over her face as she stared at the floor. Her body was lax in the chair and slowly her eyes fluttered shut in sleep.

The world had begun to sink into night with the inky sky becoming full of flickering lanterns of white. He glanced down from his book with his eyes landing on her once more. She was sleeping still but with her face turned toward him with strands of her hair falling in her face. He leaned forward and swept them aside. Leaning back, he let his thoughts get the better of him. They wandered to when he was allowed to touch her arm-something that he learned later on was something not even Arwen was able to do- and how her eyes sparked when her anger spiked. Those eyes of hers were the key to seeing past her withdrawn self; they portrayed everything from her sadness to her happiness. And then his thoughts drifted off further; they began to focus on her, her smile, her laugh, and her voice.

A meow snapped him from his thoughts and focus on Nínim, who was balanced delicately on the window sill. He stared in awe of the cat's agility as she slinked down and into his lap. He figured Nínim must have sensed the rise in his emotions, much like Asfaloth did. Whatever the case, he was glad he had company, even if that company was a pesky, fickle cat.

* * *

_A/N: So ALOT of you probably noticed I kept Coruwen from the Council... I did this purpose since everyone divulges on that section of the movie/book. If I wanted to be fancy, I could've tweaked the book's version, but its simply to long... Anyway, I accept any dislike of this little part in the story. _

_Review Answers: _

_Glorelwen: Yes, there will be, but we'll see him later after a certain point. I will keep writing, but I may get discouraged easily. If people review more, the more likely I will be to possibly increase chapter content or even give you guys surprises! To be honest, she tolerates him, and that was seen a few chapters ago when she sorta snapped at him. Anyway, Thanks for the review! :) _

_Seriya Silvermist: I can just say that i love your username? It's very pretty. :) Ok, glad to hear that you are loving it! Concerning romance, it will appear later on but I will give no spoilers on what is to come. Hope to hear from you again! _

_Please Review!_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Hanging On**_

* * *

"Because I'm calling your name  
Every day I feel this pain  
But you just turn and walk away"

-Ellie Goulding "Hanging On"

* * *

"Coruwen?" That voice…. "Coruwen, wake up." That voice seemed familiar to her. She was being shaken and she cracked open her eyes only to see blurs around her. Bit by bit her vision cleared up revealing Thorin sitting in front of her. His sapphire eyes stared down at her with a strange darkness brooding within.

Her heart about stopped when she saw him, but it stopped its fluttering when he spoke, "Woman, what are you doing?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," She jested, drawing herself up to sit. "I-I thought-,"

"_What_ in the name of the Mahal are you doing?" Thorin snapped shortly. Out of the tumbling emotions swirling in her mind, she found that pieces and parts of her rose to lash back at him.

"Me? I have been acting-," She stopped shrinking back and hiding behind her hair. A disappointed sigh came from him and when his hand touched her face she jumped. She knew exactly what he was inferring to. That promise had yet to be fulfilled. Glancing up at him made her wince. Thorin's eyes were dark with no sign of yielding in the slightest. "I apologize, Thorin."

"You need to fix this…" He stated firmly.

Coruwen bit back her tears. Everything sounded so easily when someone spoke it, she thought. Why did they have to die that day? Out of the thousands, why the man she loved and the two boys she loved like sons? "I-It is never as easy as you make it out to be."

"Nothing ever is," He let out a humorless chuckle, "But I would have thought that I would have been let go by now."

"I loved you… If I had died and you lived you would be doing the same," His thumb pressed against her lips, silencing her. She swallowed the hard lump that formed in her throat and pulled at his hand. She gripped his hand tightly, but found no warmth from his skin. It was as if she were holding an actual being of death. "Thorin, there is no other that can give me the same love you did."

The dwarf sighed with his face becoming one of defeat. His hand slipped free of her grip as he whispered, "You need to look harder," There was no humor in his voice; even in death the man was still stoic. She shook her head, trying to cast the voices out of her head.

_What kind of ending statement was that? Look harder? _

Her inner voice was snarling like a feral beast allowed to taste blood. That man haunted her steps still; or rather she couldn't let him go… A large part of her still missed him, still desired him to be at her side, and still reminded her that he had died. She couldn't blame herself for his death, because it wasn't. Azog's son, Bolg, had taken revenge on his father's nemesis by breaking him and Thorin had perished because of that orc.

"Araniel," A voice started gently. Coruwen's gaze snapped back to the person using her father-name. Behind her stood her father, a bright light fading behind him like the sun passing down out of view. She hesitated before running towards him, but found that he hugged her close to him as if she were going to slip away. He gave her a small smile as he raised her gaze up to his. "My little nightingale, you look so sad."

"Ada, what are you doing here?" She asked, trying to figure out why he was here in one of her dreams. In the back of her mind, she heard her aunt's voice telling her that her father was far more powerful than she was.

Finrod chuckled, "Can a father not see his daughter every once in a while?" Coruwen frowned but his laugh only grew. A deep, warm laugh that slowly made her smile. "All right, it is a bit unorthodox, but that's not really why I'm here, nightingale."

She gave him a nod to continue, curious to why he was standing before her. Finrod ran a hand through his hair, only for it get caught on his ring that made Coruwen giggle. He muttered a curse under his breath as he attempted to wriggle his hand free of his gold hair. Gently, Coruwen reached up and slid his hand back allowing his hand to become free.

"Intentional," Finrod said as he cleared his throat. "Anyway, I have been watching you as of late. And have found that you were given an ultimatum by the King under the Mountain." The elleth nodded slowly, feeling her stomach twist into knots. Dain was Dain; he wouldn't tell someone something without it having meaning. "What holds you?"

"My devotion to our people," Coruwen wrung her hands inside of the sleeves of her dress, trying to conceal her nerves. Finrod's hand caught hers and he held them still with a scolding look flickering in his blue eyes. "I will help the dwarves if times press."

Finrod let out a sigh as he released her hands. He turned away from her and smoothly folded his hands behind his back. "Dear, do you know how I obtained the name Felagund? It is because I am considered a friend of the dwarves. The name Felagund means 'hewer of caves' in the tongue of the dwarves. Dain considers _you_ an ally, and one should treat the friendship of dwarves with the highest regard."

"Ada, my title no longer befits me."

He whirled around causing Coruwen to jump slightly at the sternness flickering in his features. "Nonsense… A dragon is a mighty beast, but not all are ruthless. Some are wise, some are docile, and some…" He walked up to her and touched her heart with two fingers. "Don't believe they are dragons. A queen you were also named also."

"No I'm not."

Finrod kissed her forehead lightly. "You are a queen just like your mother. You need only look."

~.~.~

She attempted to move but her limbs resisted, as if boulders were situated on every ample limb. She cracked open her eyes, hissing when the light instantly blinded her. She snapped them shut and nestled her face into her pillow in an attempt to shut it out.

"Are you awake, Coruwen?" A voice inquired. The voice made her crack open her eyes to slowly adjust.

"Here," She replied. Her voice sounded strange to her own ears; it sounded dry and hoarse. The weight upon her arms lifted when she shifted slightly too hopefully allow her sit upright. Her vision cleared and came to meet the inquisitive arctic gaze of Nínim, who was sitting on her chest with her nose touching Coruwen's. She shot the cat a glare, but the feline sat down. A chuckle was heard and then followed by Nínim getting lifted from her chest. Glorfindel was holding the cat loosely and then when their gazes met, he smiled. "Glorfindel, what am I-?"

"You collapsed," Glorfindel explained as he dropped Nínim on the chair behind him. He took her hand and slid the other around her waist to pull her upright. She silenced the small voice in her mind that was smiling rather foxily at her. Her muscles ached horribly and her mind was trying to piece together the plots in her mind that made her collapse. "Is something wrong?"

His voice made her mind's reverie shatter like glass. It was such a calm voice, a voice that was blessed by a silver tongue. She glanced up at him and found him observing her closely. Looking up into his eyes, she saw a mixture of dark blues and grays that were beautifully mingling together. And past the beautiful colors were power and intelligence sitting lazily in the depths. His fingers tilted her head to the side once and then the other as if searching for an injury of some sort. He withdrew from her side to pick up Nínim. "Do you remember anything?"

"No, well barely," He sat down with the cat in his arms, stroking her ears, but no emotion passed in his features. Her mind picked itself up once more and began to speak to her and tell her of the Black Speech. Her voice spoke without a second thought, "Black Speech did this, didn't it?"

"Yes," A relieved smile faintly touched his lips for a moment. "It would appear that you didn't lose any of your memories, my dear." He paused and chuckled. "Most of us had a bad reaction to that little outburst on Mithrandir's part. I was simply left with nasty headache."

She giggled and quickly stopped herself. Glancing up, she saw Glorfindel looking at her with amusement etched in his features. A light smile touched his face before he stood with Nínim, giving him slight grief over the matter. He tossed a folded dress her way before reaching the door.

"Where are we going?" She inquired.

A hint of slyness touched his voice, "Secret."

She hissed out a breath and watched him leave. Rigidly, she stood with her bones and muscles being shaken awake. She removed the white robe, but halted when it slid past her collarbone. A descending line of silvery scars skimmed across her skin and disappeared down past her view. She touched one with the memory of the White Warg's lantern eyes staring down at her as its jaws clamped down on her. Perhaps she was a fool for letting her guard down and this was her punishment. The scars reminded her that she let her guard down once. Sighing, she cast the thought of the warg and her scars aside. She didn't need their memory lingering over her head. She slid into the dress and began to braid back a section of her hair when she felt Nínim bump up against her leg. Smiling, she scooped up the fluffy cat and left the room in search of Glorfindel.

The halls were silent. Walls of white climbed high and touched lightly by ivy vines that cascaded up and around the windows. Not too far along, Coruwen heard the sound of muffled voices hissing in the cavernous halls. She spied Glorfindel's back and halted when she recognized the voice speaking. Himon…

"The prince has asked it of me to guard Lady Coruwen," Himon stated in a respectful tone. "I know you have taken it upon yourself to watch over her but please, let it fall to me, my lord."

"I believe I have gone over this with the prince before," Glorfindel informed the ellon general. His tone was firm, yet hinted with a sense of defensiveness that could've been easily mistaken as danger. Such a voice made Coruwen shiver. Pressing herself up against, she wall she listened more closely. "I respect his relationship with her, but she is not well at the moment. I will speak with him when she is ample enough to be around you and your brother, understood?"

A short growl was heard, but Himon spoke with a suppressed edge. "Yes, my lord."

When Himon's footsteps faded out of her hearing, she slipped around the corner whilst watching Glorfindel closely. His shoulders were tense and he was physically rigid like a cat.

Coruwen reached forward and gripped his wrist. His hand snapped to hers and internally she jumped. His face was neutral, but his eyes were dark; dark with anger. And upon meeting her gaze, his defensive persona dropped.

"Coruwen," He breathed. His voice had dropped low, a signal to her that he was bothered by her seeing him become that way. He covered his eyes with his hand. "You heard that, didn't you?"

"All of it," She answered quietly. Reaching up, she removed his hand to look into his eyes. "What did he do?"

Glorfindel took a deep breath, "The prince is terribly bothersome… He-," He was silenced by her finger pressing up against his lips. It slid off when his hand took her wrist allowing him to speak, "He has been bothering me the past few days and asking about sending you back to Lothlórien or Mirkwood."

"The latter isn't safe." She commented dryly as she leaned up against the wall.

"My exact words and that seemed to upset him." Coruwen shook her head with a bit of worry clawing at her heart. The cold wind of autumn passed across her face and ran its fingers through her hair slightly tossing it in her eyes. A chuckle made her sweep it back to look up at Glorfindel. "Here, stand still for a moment."

"What?" She tried to step back when his fingers brushed against her cheek and began unraveling the braids she had made not too long ago.

"I said; don't move," He restated in a firm voice. She was finding herself being easily entranced by those eyes. The power within was enormous and honestly reminded her of her uncle or father's eyes. Men of power did not need to show their power on the outside, she noted, it was all within their eyes. She tore her gaze away from him to the floor with heat prickling her face once more. He moved to the other side of her head. "There, now they won't unravel as easily."

Her fingers touched the braids that started at her temples. Quickly, she tucked the braids behind her ears and then whispered her thanks to him.

"Come with me?" He offered with a gesture to take his hand. And it was there that her body froze, unsure what exactly to do.

_Just do it… What harm could come of taking his hand? _

Setting aside her hesitant self, she took his hand. Much to her surprise, she found that his hand were similar to that of Orophin or Rumil's. Years of using blades and bows had roughened them. The two walked out to an alcove that overlooked a great expanse of waterfalls in the shade of a great tree.

"Did anyone tell you who was taking the One Ring to Mordor?" She shook her head, "Frodo has offered to take it, and the prince and Aragorn have sworn to go with him as well. The prince has left you in the care of the general and his younger brother."

"Then that explains Himon's behavior." Coruwen glanced up at Glorfindel. He was giving her a slightly cryptic look. "What is it you ask of me?"

He leaned close to her and whispered, "All I ask is that you be careful around the older brother."

~.~.~

_December 25, 3018 _

Coruwen watched as Frodo, Bilbo, Sam, Pippin, and Merry all said their goodbyes before they departed on the long journey to Mordor. As of a few days ago, Boromir, son of Denethor, and Gimli had also been added to the small company of Frodo. Bilbo had given Frodo Sting and a few other little belongings to accompany him.

Coruwen felt a hand on her shoulder, and she turned around to meet the grey eyes of Legolas. She inclined her head to him, and then he grabbed her hand to pull her aside.

"Are you returning to Lórien today?" He asked in a hushed voice. She wondered why he would be asking such a question. It was not his concern to when she was leaving or not… She shook her head to answer him. "I see…"

"You have been acting rather odd as of the past few weeks, is something the matter?" Coruwen inquired. Concern lingered in his features when she spoke, and then he tore his gaze from her. "Legolas, what has been bothering you?"

"Promise me something?" What was there to promise? If he didn't return then she would be stuck with an empty promise. The feeling of letting down her friend made her regret trusting him so much. She nodded. "Promise me that you won't give your heart away while I am gone."

She stared at him skeptically. Looking into his eyes, she saw he was serious but she found that such a promise was a bit farfetched. He was her friend for goodness sake! He made it seem as if she loved him.

"I cannot promise you that," Coruwen answered. Legolas frowned and turned to face her. He was about to open his mouth to speak, but Aragorn's voice interrupted him. He disappeared and Coruwen slinked out of view of the Fellowship and into the view of Arwen.

"Where did you go?" Arwen asked in a quiet, yet firm voice. "All I saw was the prince leaving and-," Her grey eyes narrowed as she looked at Coruwen closely. "Coruwen, what happened?"

"Nothing, nothing happened," She replied hurriedly. When she tried to step past Arwen, the elleth stood in her way like a wall. Firmly Coruwen said, "Arwen, it doesn't concern you."

"Yes, it does," Arwen returned. "What did he do?" When Coruwen's eyes fell onto the snowy ground, Arwen's eyes widened. "What did he ask of you?" Her stomach turned at the words, but she managed a nod. She heard her cousin's worried voice, "Coruwen, you can tell me…"

"He asked me to not give my heart away…" Her voice cracked a bit. "He knows I will not do that. He knows! Thorin still has it for Valar sake." Arwen's hand snapped to hers and started to pull her in the direction of the library. "Where are you taking me?!"

"To Glorfindel."

"Why?!"

"Because, he can make you talk."

"Arwen," Coruwen dug her heels into the ground and pulled back from Arwen's grip. "It's nothing. Nothing more than a little emotional outburst that he had. He has always had those feelings, I've seen them."

"Then why don't you return them?"

"Because, he is my friend," She let out a growl, and clenched her hands into fists. Her voice dropped to a low, dangerous tone. "And I do not love him."

"Coruwen!" Calenfaire's voice tore the ellith's gazes from the other. The ellon bounded up to her, and handed her a letter. She turned the letter over to see the seal. The symbol made her internally flinch; an oak leaf with brambles curling around the edges. Thranduil' symbol. Tearing at the seal, she found the handwriting not to be the Elvenking's but Moriel's.

_Coruwen,_

_An attack befell our halls, many were injured. The Elvenking was gravely wounded, your presence is needed. _

_-Moriel _

"What is the matter?" Calenfaire asked, placed his chin on her shoulder. She reached up, patting his cheek softly. She shared a nervous look with him and then he let out a growl. "We're going somewhere, aren't we?"

"Yes, dear Calenfaire," Coruwen answered. "Find the general and begin to prepare."

"Yes, my lady," The ellon replied as he left her side to do as he was ordered. Coruwen inclined her head to Arwen, who motioned her to follow her. The two returned to her room where they found Erestor's cat on her bed, curled up on a blanket with her icy eyes trained on the ellith. Coruwen found Nínim everywhere, and when she entered the room the cat would stare at her.

"Thranduil needed you?" Arwen asked as she picked up Nínim. Coruwen nodded as she packed a few items into a knapsack. "What for?"

"He was injured, Moriel needs my assistance."

"Strange, he is never that reckless… Or so I've heard." If only she knew how reckless Thranduil could be. If one knew what Thranduil could be like, they wouldn't second guess where Legolas gained his irrationality from.

"You don't know the half of it."

"How many days does it take to get from Mirkwood on horseback?"

"Roughly about forty eight hours, _if_ one doesn't stop for long periods of time."

"Coruwen," The elleth stopped rummaging around in a nearby cabinet. Arwen tugged on her dress sleeve to draw her attention. "Be careful… And I'm sure that he'll find you and tell you the same."

The past months had gifted Coruwen with the friendship of Glorfindel. She could easily tell him anything and he told her many things as well. She picked up her knapsack and left her room. She left the long stretch of hallways that made up the living quarters finding herself oddly searching for Glorfindel or Erestor. She ran hand across a climbing patch of jasmine with the green tendrils wrapping around her fingers to coax them back to the little white flowers.

It was the little things that always prospered, like these flowers. Despite the cold of winter, they thrived and they were beautiful in the cold and white of winter. She found herself enjoying the small things in life once more in the stead of sitting and watching it pass her by. For instance, the time she spent with Glorfindel made her happy. He made her happy…

"Coruwen?" A voice inquired, drawing her instantly out of her thoughts. She glanced up to see Glorfindel standing in the archway looking at her curiously. The darkness of his fur cloak made his hair appear brighter as if the sun was sitting in a background of black. "What are you doing?"

"I was searching for you, but became side-tracked," Coruwen replied, standing from her kneel. He narrowed his eyes as she approached him. "I am departing for Mirkwood."

"Oh," Came his reply. "Well, I only wish that you go with caution. This world is becoming far more dangerous with each pass of the hour." And when she tried to pass by him, he grabbed her wrist to drag her back to him. "Wait, what possesses you to go there?"

"A letter from the Chief Healer, my assistance is requested with a matter." He nodded slowly, but she was unsure if he truly believed her. He released her and she walked past him to an uncovered walkway. Glancing up into the sky, she felt the snow flurries tickle her face with their bitter touch. The sky was murky with the fluffy snow clouds with the bare tree branches stretching their gnarled fingers up to touch it. The snow covered everything besides the banks of the rivers. Mutely, she glanced back at Glorfindel with the feeling of smile come to her face. If she lingered, she would never make it to Mirkwood.

She found Calenfaire and Himon waiting for her with the horses saddled and both ready to ride through the snow of the High Pass. Calenfaire had his hood down and every so often would brush the snowflakes out of his hair. His brother on the other hand appeared like a black shadow with the snow dancing around him, almost afraid to touch him.

"Let's get a move on," Himon stated when she took Ithil's reins from Calenfaire. The group swung up onto the backs of the horses and trotted out of Imladris. The light from the overcast clouds made the snow hard to see past for some of the trip up to the road that led up to the pass. It bothered enough to where her eyes started to become flecked with black spots. Ithil gladly picked up into a canter when Himon spied the ridge that led to the pass. She was flanked by both brothers until they came to the ridge. The black-grey stone appeared rather shiny to Calenfaire and he noted it when they stopped at the base.

"It looks safe enough," Calenfaire commented as he dismounted Talt. Himon tipped back his hood a bit with his blue eyes flicking back to his little brother. Coruwen watched her young friend creep on the ridge like a fox. She heard his boots skid a bit when he reached a thin patch of stone.

"Calenfaire," Himon's voice raised in warning. The boy wobbled on the stone and placed his foot out to catch himself but then a scream was heard. Coruwen gasped when Himon had dove, grabbing his brother's hood with one hand as the ellon dangled over the edge. He was limp in his brother's grip and gawked down at the very thin azure line that was the river. "Idiot, brother."

"Whoa, that's an itty bitty river," Calenfaire awed distantly. He made no attempt to swing up leaving his brother to haul him up the ledge. Calenfaire plopped himself on the ledge with legs dangling over the edge to allow him to look at the edge. Himon smacked his brother upside the head before whispering a profanity at his lesser. "Hey, at least I didn't go wandering into the forest being a show-off."

"Cork it," Himon hissed with his tone dangerous and dripping with venom. Calenfaire smiled wryly up at his brother, playfully swatting his hood. "Calenfaire, what is wrong with you boy?"

"I feel fine," Calenfaire stated with a slight slur. Coruwen narrowed her eyes. "However, that little Halfling… Pippin? Gave me these strange little flowers and dared me to eat 'em."

"Moonflowers, idiot," Himon groaned as he picked up his brother by the hood. "We're walking for here on out until we get on the other side of the pass. And this one," He slung his brother onto the back of his horse, "is going to be sitting right here like a good boy."

"Whatever you say, Himon."

Coruwen suppressed a giggle as she guided Ithil on the path. The entire walk through the pass was spent listening to Calenfaire in a drug-induced stupor as he marveled at little rocks or the river, and a little blighted tree accompanied by chuckles.

"That is how you know he is still young," Himon informed. It sounded rather directed at himself than her when he spoke, but she still shook her head. Under his breath, Himon hissed, "Eating Moonflowers, at least he didn't get drunk again."

"He's done this before?" She inquired. Himon glanced back with a rather shocked expression on his face.

"Sadly, he's gotten his hands on a fair share of herbs that cause things to appear differently. He's also developed a bad habit of sneaking into the healing houses and taking pain reducers… He can be quite the pain sometimes."

"I find it rather humorous."

"Well, true as that may be, he needs to stay away from them," He raised his voice back to his brother. "Don't you, Calenfaire?"

"Huh?" Calenfaire lifted his head a bit, but then he hummed. "Uh-huh, yes sir."

"He didn't hear me," Himon muttered as he took his horse's reins and started up the slick ledges of the High Pass. Coruwen gently tugged on Ithil's reins, guiding her across the ledges, despite the mare's best efforts to stop herself.

The hardest part of the journey had ended when they exited the High Pass and its harsh climates. Granted, the area around the Misty Mountains was still touched by snow but it wasn't covered ice in any way. Coruwen spied the tops of the mallorn trees of Lórien when they stopped upon a hill near the Gladden River.

"We should stop in Lórien before starting toward Mirkwood," Coruwen stated drawing the attention of Himon. Calenfaire was still under the influence of Moonflowers. The general shot her a quizzical look as he stroked his brother's head. His look was hinted by a silent anger; something Coruwen never understood. When it came to how fast one could turn from normal to angered, Himon was worse than some women. "I need to speak with my aunt and uncle, if it isn't any trouble."

"Fine," Himon answered bitterly. Coruwen walked down the hill to find Ithil standing beside the river, knocking chunks of ice out of her path to drink the water below. The mare shook out her mane when snow began to clump together.

"Ithil," Coruwen started as she ran a hand across the mare's flank. Ithil turned one almond eye back to her with snow clumped in the bit of mane on her forelock. She giggled and began to remove the clumped snow as she spoke to her horse. "We are going home for a bit." The mare bumped Coruwen's chest with a happy snort. The elleth stroked the mare's back with the occasional readjustment of the mare's black mane.

"Lady Coruwen," Himon said formally from atop the hill. She turned to his voice, giving him a nod of her head. She saw him in her side vision as he untied his horse's reins from the tree. If he wasn't as temperamental as he was, he would make some elleth happy. She untied Ithil and mounted the mare as she began to toss her head backward. Calenfaire was swung over the back of Talt as he began to sing a slurred song that Pippin and Merry had taught him. The sow began to fade as the group neared Lórien's borders with the sighting of Marchwardens flickering in the trees above. "I hear them, but I do not see them."

"They surely hear us," Coruwen answered. Himon rode up beside her as his blue eyes rose to the treetops. He seemed to be in minor awe, or confusion. "They live on flets high above so the enemies cannot see them, or even hear them."

"That silent, eh?" Himon muttered. "I find _that_ hard to believe…"

Coruwen had experienced the stealth of the Marchwardens before. Haldir, Rumil, and Orophin used to find it rather amusing to sneak up on her. They used to tease her that her mind's voice was far too loud for her to hear them. She pushed the thoughts of that family away and began to focus on the sounds around her. Her ears picked up the sounds of the whispering trees and the muffled sounds of the elves on the flets high above.

From above descended Gilion, balancing from branch to branch until he swung down from the lowest and onto the ground. Gilion appeared at Coruwen's side and gripped Ithil's reins.

"Who are these two?" Gilion asked in a low voice. Coruwen took one more glance up at Calenfaire and Himon before answering him. The ellon's face became a bit contorted in long standing hatred for Mirkwood elves. The contortion faded as Gilion let out a long sigh. "All right, but I will warn you if _he_ does anything. I will toss him out."

"Which one?"

"The general," Gilion hissed as he released Ithil's reins. "I'll lead you back to Caras Galadhon, my lady. And even then, I will be watching those two."

"I understand, Gilion."

The chief whistled for Ithil, who in turn led the other horses up to Caras Galadhon. When Gilion stayed at her side after she had dismounted and instructed Himon to take Calenfaire to a healer, she began to wonder why.

"Gilion?" Her voice became tensed. The chief glanced down at her curiously. "I can find my way back to my aunt and uncle on my own."

"I have a message to give you when you return from speaking with your guardians, my lady." Gilion informed her as he spun on his heel. Coruwen wound her way up to her aunt and uncle's flet, listening for their voices. The distinct sound of her aunt's singing voice drew her to a door at the end of a hallway. With her knuckle, she knocked on the door softly thus halting her aunt's voice.

"Enter," Galadriel's voice answered. Coruwen slid into the room, tapping the door shut with her foot. Galadriel was facing away from her, looking out to the horizon. "You cannot linger, little bird. What is it you wish to tell me?"

Coruwen nearly jumped out of her skin when her aunt's voice came without a glance taken back at her. She approached her aunt and found her aunt's blue eyes were peering at her. Coruwen remembered her father's eyes; they were same blue as her aunt's.

"You must all ready know of the Ring-Bearer, but I came to tell you that word has reached me of an assault on Mirkwood," Coruwen reported. Galadriel nodded slowly with a small hum escaping her lips. "I was asked to ride to Mirkwood to assist the Chief Healer, otherwise I would stay here."

"Understandable, my dear," Her aunt replied, turning to her niece. She tipped up her niece's face with one slender hand, giving her a gentle smile. "I will tell Celeborn about your departure." The smile fell and she inspected her closely. "Your father has been speaking to you, hasn't he?"

Coruwen giggled sheepishly, "More or less."

"His coming bothers you?" Coruwen nodded. "You are overlooking things, if that helps you understand his… Intrusion into your visions."

She frowned, backing away from her aunt a bit. Her father was intruding because he wanted to make her understand something? She gave her a quizzical look. "He and Thorin have been invading my mind as of late." She shook her head, stress and anxiety building up in her chest. "And I cannot seem to shake his memory. No matter how hard I try to force it away, I end up back where I started."

"Araniel," Galadriel soothed. Her aunt stroked her head, whispering to her, "Do not burden yourself with memories, my dear. All things will come together in the end. But I do notice something..."

She glanced up at Galadriel, trying to stop her hands from wringing. "Someone has been speaking to you. And…" Her voice faltered a bit as her eyes became distant. "You enjoy his presence, do you not?"

_Glorfindel… _

Coruwen lowered her gaze to the floor with her heart fluttering at the thought of him. She couldn't deny her happiness when she spent time with him. And then her mind wandered a tad too far when it thought of Legolas. She was terribly confused on what was currently occurring between the two of them. In worry, she worried her bottom lip.

"Think nothing of what I said, little bird," Galadriel noted drawing Coruwen's gaze. "Do what you believe in. You best be on your way before your companions get too rowdy." The Lady of Light hugged her niece tightly before Coruwen left. Gilion joined her at the base of the stairs, catching her arm to stop her.

"My lady, I have a message for you from-,"

"Coruwen!" Himon yelled over Gilion's voice. The ellon snorted and released her arm.

"I will tell you at a later date," Gilion stated sharply before he disappeared up into the trees. Coruwen's curiosity prodded her as she left Lothlórien to travel to Mirkwood.

* * *

_A/n: Calenfaire makes me giggle... Never fails. The funny flower Pippin gave him is actually a real thing; they're called Moonflowers or Datura. They cause terrible hallucinations and sometimes sickness. _

_Answers: _

_Seriya Silvermist: Thank you! :D You get a cookie for that! *hands cookie* AND have a chapter. :) _

_KrystylSky: Please tell me I spelled your name right.. I think I did. Anyway, thanks for the review! _

_Please Review! _


	11. Chapter 11

_**-Music Suggestion: Davy Jones Theme (Music Box) **_

_**That Which was Lost**_

* * *

Moriel ran hand through her hair as she paced around the room. Her lord has been shot with a poison tipped arrow in a place nearest the heart. The poison was not able to be removed easily and neither was the arrowhead. She looked over at him to find him staring at his lap with a rueful look shadowing his features.

_Calenon… _

His name was plain to see in the king's eyes. That name made Moriel's throat constrict and her breaths become shaky. Her heart shuddered in her chest as she tried to force his memory from her mind.

_Why? Why him? _

As she attempted to break the silence, her words were forced down by the sound of her older brother's voice speaking to the guards outside the door. A silent prayer was uttered to the Valar on her brother's impeccable timing. Himon flashed a quick smile her way before Coruwen entered the room and rushed to the king's side. All the king did was glance up at her, his eyes glassy and his speech choppy. The sad look he had mere moments ago dissipated into a stern mask. Coruwen began to observe the wound just above his heart as Moriel slinked near her brother's side.

"What is the matter?" Himon whispered giving her a nudge. "Moriel, tell me."

"Him," Moriel choked out before her voice became swallowed by her constricting throat. She heard a sigh come from her brother as his hand slid around wrist. For all of her brother's stoic nature, he could easily be broken by the sight of someone being upset. Himon tugged on her hand, asking her to follow him out of the room. As she did, she heard the king's voice. She returned to the hall, finding Himon staring down at her sympathetically. "It's been nearly an age since he passed, Himon."

"I know," He answered, his fingers tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "We all miss him, sister dear. But mourning the dead never did the world any good."

"You didn't love him, Himon."

Himon snorted, "He was my _best_ friend. He was my battle-brother, and by far the greatest warrior father ever trained." Moriel felt tears begin to sting her eyes as he spoke. No matter how much she told herself to not cry, tears still began to blur her vision. "No doubt the king misses the queen… But I have a feeling that he misses his favorite son as well."

"He almost could have joined him in the Halls," Moriel said, her voice hoarse and quiet. Himon wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close to him, resting his chin on her head as tears slipped down her cheeks. "That arrow was so close to his heart."

Himon did not speak, but rather hushed his sister with his eyes shut tightly. She couldn't take it; so many years had gone by without him. Without her Calenon. Without his love, his touch, or the sound of his voice. The closest thing she ever came to seeing her beloved again was through Prince Legolas. However, he wasn't his brother. She clutched her brother's cloak in her fists, berating herself for crying, and for even still thinking about the lost prince.

"Moriel?" A gentle voice asked behind her. She released Himon's cloak and whirled around to face the voice.

_Naruhel…_

The woman stared at her curiously with wide brown eyes. "A-Are you-?"

"Yes, I am! I am crying!" Moriel shouted. Himon placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her from chewing out the healer any further. She took a step back as Himon guided Naruhel away from her. Her sadness twisted itself into anger without much effort. She slumped against the wall when she realized her mistake; she had yelled at Naruhel… Her dearest friend in all of Middle-Earth.

The sound of Himon's boots on the stone made her glance up at her brother, who was carefully approaching her as if she were a starved feral cat let loose off of its chain. "Moriel, do you need me still?" She shook her head and Himon left her to disappear down the hall.

_I need see him… One last time. _

Picking herself up, she departed down a corridor that led to the inner set of courtyards high upon a plateau far from the burial grounds. It was a circular grove, hidden from sight by willows and ferns. A great tree stood amidst its willowy cousins, far stronger and deeply rooted than all the others with two swords of pure silver stuck in the ground before its roots.

Moriel approached the thin sword that was built like a needle rather than a broadsword. The pommel was simple, but surely well loved by its user. The sword beside it was far more ornate, the hilt was composed of polished silver with a set emerald in the middle wreathed with ivy vines. These swords were those of the lost king and prince of Greenwood.

"Calenon," Moriel whispered, stroking the rapier's hilt. Her knees buckled, but her hand still gripped the hilt tightly with her knuckles turning white. Tears began to sting her eyes once more as she traced the blade with her fingertips. "My dearest, how I miss you. All I want is to see you smile once again."

"Ever since that day, I cannot cease my need of you. Everyone misses you," A rueful smile touched her lips. "Even your little brother, who is grown but is still the little mischievous pup that he was. Your mother has gone across the sea and taken with her all the joy your father ever had. And your father…." Her fingers stopped at the pommel of the blade as her tears began to dry. "Your father misses you every waking moment and blames himself for your death. But there was no helping your case, dear…."

"I suppose you and your grandfather are wondering why I am out here. Well, Cal, there isn't an easy way to say this really. Your father was shot with a poisoned arrow near his heart. He is a damned lucky fool that it didn't hit anything vital, but the poison _could_ take his life. I-I don't want to let your mother live on without him, but Cal… Cal, I can't do anything more for him. Please, help me… Please, send me a sign to let me help him. He is your father and I know if you were here you'd help me figure this out."

"Just help me; someone, anyone…"

_"Come now, Mora, are you really going to let a bit of poison stop you?" _A voice chided from beside her. Moriel knew that voice. She glanced over and nearly screamed. Beside her, sitting on a tree root was Calenon in a spectral form with the wispy white cloak hiding most of his body. Many considered Legolas to appear more like Thranduil, but in truth he resembled more of the queen than anything. It was Calenon that resembled Thranduil aside from his mother's benevolent behavior. _"You said send a sign, my Mora." _

"Calenon, what is this?"

He glanced around, _"This is a grove, love. What does it look like?" _She smiled, hiding a laugh. He looked down at himself, _"Oh, you're talking about me, aren't you? Easy explanation, you're asleep and Mandos is being nice." _

"Cal, stop playing around! I need a sign-," He placed a ghostly finger to her lips with milky eyes telling her to hush up. "Could you at least look more…? Presentable?"

Calenon shook his head, _"I've been dead for far too long, and what you're seeing in my fëa being released from my body in Aman. I can only do this because of Mandos' aid and I don't have much time. So, what exactly do you need help with?" _

"You weren't listening?"

_"You know I'm terrible at listening." _

"Calenon… Be serious, I know you listen well." He smirked devilishly. "I need to know a cure for the poison that has taken root in your father's system. Any ideas?"

_"What was it made of?" _

"It was a type of poison common to orcs. I didn't look!"

He frowned, clicking his tongue at her as if she were a child. _"Mora, I believe in you. But I can't help you," _Her heart sank and fell out of her chest onto the ground somewhere. _"But do one thing for me." _

"Anything, Cal."

He smiled with his eyes twinkling brightly. _"Be a good girl and snap out of it." _

She blinked back confusion before she felt hands on her shoulders, shaking her awake. She opened her eyes feeling the light sting as she did so. Once adjusted, her gaze fell on Naruhel. The elleth was sitting in front of her, pale hands resting in her lap with her eyes locked upon them.

"Naruhel, I'm sorry," Moriel whispered, rubbing her upper arms in anxiety. Naruhel glanced up at her and gave her a small smile. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I just miss him…"

"Prince Calenon loved you as well, or from what I remember. He was a good man," Naruhel answered. Moriel gave her a curious look when she stood and dusted off her dress's skirt. "The king sent men away when I tried to enter. He is apparently speaking with Coruwen."

"About?"

"I didn't eavesdrop."

Moriel stood, snatching a glance back at Calenon's sword before following after her friend. "Naruhel, you didn't have to come looking for me…"

"Yes, I did," Her voice was blunt. "You would have sat up there and cried yourself to death. I know you miss him, but can you find it in your heart to at least let him go?"

"I have done that to the best of my ability. Do not start sounding like my brother."

The woman laughed, "All right, I won't!"

~.~.~

He was beginning to become incoherent. Coruwen glanced up from her lap as she heard Thranduil's voice whisper rabble. His silver hair was sticking to his forehead as his body shook. Around his shoulder were bandages that were strongly visible through his shirt. His health was declining. A bit of worry touched her when she placed her fingers around the bandages. He recoiled from her touch and his eyes cracked open. His eyes were glassy, lacking their commanding glint. They were dark, dark like peat moss.

"Faemes, I'm sorry," Thranduil whispered breathlessly. "I'm so sorry…" His voice made her freeze. Thranduil-a stoic man-never broke in such a way. The slight quiver of his voice could've stayed even the cruelest person's hand. He shrunk back into himself, whispering the name Faemes.

_Who is Faemes?_

"Thranduil?" Coruwen uttered with her hand resting on his shoulder. Did she dare even move him? What would happen if she did? He did not possess foresight-at least to her knowledge- and never had any account of perceiving visions.

"I should not have let him go," The king's head lolled to the side with his words drifting away. A little voice in Coruwen's head begged her to shake him awake, she wanted know what-or who- Faemes was. And then she thought it was possibly the poison making him see things. Poison from the southern regions typically caused delusions or even worse, death; this honestly could be a simple poison induced delusion.

_Just shake him, it won't harm him! _

That voice was becoming more and more annoying. She cursed herself for making such stupid accusations. How could she even think of such a thing? His voice broke her heart and she did not even understand what had occurred. She tore her gaze from him to look at the ceiling. It was painted beige pressed delicate leaves to appear like the canopy above the halls.

"I wish I could understand," She whispered, folding pieces of cloth meticulously into triangles. How she wished he wasn't like this. Her gaze landed back onto her lap and then over to Thranduil's shoulder. That shoulder brought back a memory. A simple, amusing memory of him and his son with the latter trying to stop the other from wrecking it. Running a hand across the king's hair, she then slipped her fingers around the bandages and pulled them loose. The scar still was there on his left shoulder but further down-towards his heart- was a red and black wound that was weeping a murky light grey liquid. With light fingers, she began to place a poultice over the wound and hoped that Thranduil wouldn't move.

"Coruwen?" Thranduil's voice snapped her from her reverie. She met his eyes, finding them clear and bright once more. "What are you doing here?"

She smiled, "I was called to help you, my lord. You received quite a nasty wound."

"An orc archer snagged me," He pulled himself up onto his elbows and she pulled her hands back. She rewrapped his shoulder and then began to move about the room. "Did I say anything…?" Coruwen turned around, blinking like a paralyzed deer. "While I was asleep? I didn't say anything idiotic, did I?

"I could lie and say that you were mute, but you did say some, rather interesting things," Coruwen replied keeping her voice neutral. The tone of his voice plucked certain unused heartstrings.

Thranduil sighed with a shake of his head. "Then could you tell me what all I said?"

Could she tell him? The name Faemes seemed to be one dear to him and he spoke about someone…. Someone that seemed dear as well. His eyes were trained on her, piercing and unyielding.

"Well, you spoke a name rather than a sentence," She managed at last. The harsh jade gaze lifted and was replaced with one of inquisition. "The name was _Faemes._"

And then a side of Thranduil showed that no person had ever beheld. Sorrow and longing. A shadow passed over him that made Coruwen worry; his shoulders slightly shook and he was shaking his head as if he didn't want to hear something.

"I apologize if I upset you," She whispered, returning to his side.

"Faemes is my wife," Thranduil told her. His voice broke as emotion rattled him. She doubted that even Legolas had seen this side of his father. The king loved his son, but every man has secrets. And to Coruwen, his wife was a secret. Now, she had her own secrets and there were many, but she never thought one could break a person. "Faemes still lives… But she is very far away from me. She left because of an accident, and I miss her." Upon his hand was a band that he rubbed nervously. "I highly doubt that Legolas remembers her. Sometimes, even I forget her."

"If I may ask, what happened?"

He halted his movement; fingers slightly curling like they were stroking strings. "I suppose I can…" The room was silent… Deathly silent to the point where one could hear the muffled guard talk outside of the door. "It was in the beginning of the Third Age, Legolas was only five years of age and his brother about five hundred."

"Brother?"

"Calenon, who if he was still alive, would be about your age…" He sighed heavily. "He was always the cautious one, always, it didn't matter what he was doing. But even he had his reckless moments…. I can remember Himon's father telling me it was a stupid idea to send Calenon out, but I didn't listen. I thought that he would fine; he _was_ after all the careful one."

"And I was wrong… Oh, so very wrong." He choked on his own voice, and stopped to draw a staggered breath. "The men returned bearing my eldest son, who had been shot with an arrow directly in the heart. He didn't even make it back to the halls."

"And then there was Faemes. Who screamed and cried as I told her that he had been killed. She and I had a hard time comprehending Calenon's death as it was, and then Legolas-being so young- barely understood what happened and therefore became curious. I had to tell Legolas what happened alone because Faemes' depression and shock became grave. Shortly thereafter, Faemes went across the sea and I have not heard from her in years."

For a long while, Coruwen sat and tried to process the tale. The king had lost his eldest son to an arrow, and his wife had traveled across the sea. She knew little of the pain that came with the loss of a child or spouse. However, she did know now that all Thranduil had left in Middle-Earth was his son, and that his son was off risking his life. She stood and left Thranduil when her head began to swim with thoughts. Some were of worry or dread, and some made her stop to think. One in particular made all other thoughts cease their rambling and secede.

_Glorfindel and Legolas… _

She thought of how Glorfindel cared for her, of how he became a good friend to her, and how he became concerned about her when she told him that she was leaving for Mirkwood. It wasn't a deep concern, the type that arises when a friend is walking into dangerous waters. And for a moment, she thought that he cared in another way; a way that made her heart stop. The way of love. Shaking her head, she tossed that aside. Glorfindel did not see in her in that regard.

_How do you know that?_

She didn't, but she assumed that he didn't at least. In a way, she couldn't bring herself to love again. Love hurts if they are taken away from you. But the love even lingers, digging in its claws to make nasty malformed scars. The scars remind you that someone loved you once and then you let them slip away like water through the cracks in a grate. She sighed quietly, covering her mouth with her hand. That happened to Thorin and the boys, and she still felt those scars in her heart; twisting and marring it with their reminder.

And then there was Legolas-for as long she had known him- had been infatuated with her. He had always looked at her with such fondness, and treated her like a piece of glass. They bickered and fought like two wolves when she had been feistier. Now, she didn't care what he did. He sometimes bothered her, mostly when she desired to be alone, and took Thorin's loss not as gently as others would. She saw the way he frowned when she began to speak about her lost king; he was envious of Thorin. His jealousy sparked very easily; he even became jealous of Calenfaire a couple of times during their stay in Imladris. She never understood him, a little thing that hadn't changed in the slightest from many years ago.

_Someone would make him far happier than I would. Someone less stubborn or even less feisty. _

Walking throughout the silent halls brought her a bit of solace. The only sounds belonged to either the fire that hung from the torches, or from the river that wound its way throughout the vast caverns. Down the hall, she spied pale lantern light flickering happily. Her curiosity piqued and she slinked down the hall and into the room. It was a great circular room that was lined with books in every direction and seemed to stretch up to the shadowy ceiling. Coruwen's eyes maneuvered around the room until they landed on a desk where a coiled piece of paper sat alone. It was far too big to be a piece of writing paper and the lines of the parchment were too defined; it was drawing paper.

As she went around the desk, her hip bumped into the side, sending something plinking across the floor. A small click was heard and then the grinding of gears. A soft metallic sound was heard echoing down the hall and mixed with the wind. Coruwen frantically scooped up the metallic object thus cutting off its song. She opened her hand, and turned the object. A small oval pendant with engraved silver depicting an ivy leaf was sitting in her palm and if she put it close to her ear she heard the small clicks of gears. Her gaze flicked up for a moment, searching for anyone, and then back down to the locket where her fingers pried the clasp open slightly and from it echoed the melody. On the backside of the opening door were engraved letters spelling Faemes' name.

Closing the locket, she returned to the desk where she found-rolled into tight coils- an assortment of old paper. Her eyes found the tails of letter that flowed smoothly across the pages and came to end in the name of the king.

"Someone is hiding this," Coruwen muttered. "Someone is keeping Faemes away from him."

The letters were set down and Coruwen looked at another letter sitting out in the open. Bold letters stated the name: Calendir. A frown formed on her face; Himon, Moriel, and Calenfaire's father. The man had long since passed on, but his office was more than likely never opened. He was hiding all of these things. She read the letter, finding that Calendir didn't agree with Prince Calenon and Moriel's relationship and he wanted it to end. Her mind froze up; what would she tell Thranduil? She didn't dare say that Himon's father staged that whole affair otherwise there would be a minor reckoning. Moriel and Himon would be stripped of their positions and Calenfaire would no longer able to become that which he had dreamed about for so long. She couldn't. She couldn't tell Thranduil about this; even if he was a trusted friend.

"I'll give him these, and lie," Coruwen told herself as she left the office of Calendir, clutching Faemes' locket and letters close to her. The guards at Thranduil's door seemed a tad apprehensive to let her back in, but did so when Thranduil called for them to let her through. He was sitting up with a book in his lap and one of his fingers holding the page.

"Where did you run off to?" Thranduil asked, dog earring the page as Coruwen removed the locket from within her sleeve. His jade eyes narrowed as she withdrew it along with the coiled letters. "Coruwen, what are-,"

"I found them," She replied. "I found them behind a large chunk of stone. The locket… The locket belonged to your wife?"

He took the silver locket, clear shock written across his face as his undid the clasp. The little gears began to pluck the chimes playing the little metallic melody into the room and the king smiled longingly. "It is actually mine. Faemes has the other one. I took it off one day and then it went missing. I took it off because Legolas found it fun to chew on it when he was very little."

Coruwen suppressed the urge to giggle. The thought of a young elfling playing with his father's locket and then proceeding to chew on it made her laugh. When Thranduil cut off the locket's voice, she passed him the coiled letters. And at first, he seemed unsure of what they were. As he unwound the first letter and began to read it, his face became neutral; almost as if in silent denial. He began to read the others and slowly a crease formed on his brow.

"You found these behind a stone?" Thranduil inquired without looking up. She nodded hesitantly. "She's been writing to me for years and I never even knew. I. Never. Knew. Why would anyone hide these, much less place them in an idiotic place?" He shook his head with a slight hiss. "Never mind… Did you see anymore?"

"These were the only ones there," Coruwen answered. A smile touched her face a bit. "But I wouldn't let that cloud your mind. What is the earliest date on these?"

"Last year it seems. Someone's been keeping them from me for nearly two thousand years. Why?"

"Try writing back to her, she will more than likely answer back."

"I believe you are correct, my lady."

~.~.~

Coruwen walked found herself lying awake in thought again. The amber glow of the candles illuminating the letter sitting in her lap; it was from Dís and the other from Arwen. Dís' letter stated that scouts had identified several sightings of Easterlings moving toward the South, towards Mordor. The letter also told her that the east was mobilizing in the direction of the Iron Hills. Dís tried to make her understand that the east needed her help…

_Thorin didn't die for you just to sit around and let Erebor fall…_

She scowled, that voice-where ever it came from- was steadily becoming annoying. Coruwen sighed, flopping back into the pillows. She buried her face into them with the hopes of calming her nerves. Dain was right. She was the Dragon Queen of Erebor, and she was not living up to that name. In a twisted sense, she had turned her back on Thorin, Kili, and Fili's memory. With his last breath Thorin had named her the Dragon Queen and gave her his ring, or rather its twin.

The problem that remained was whether or not she could actually go back. Could she go back to the place where everything was lost?

* * *

Review Answers:

Seriya Silvermist: *pats box* No thank you, dear. I have more. :) It's very possible.. (Also known as yes, i did)

Glorelwen: Rock,Paper, scissors? It's honestly up to the plot gods, at this moment.


	12. Chapter 12

_**The Mirror**_

* * *

_-February 12, 3019-_

The forest was silent and the wind was cool. Coruwen hugged her cloak tighter to her body as the wind whipped by her, sending her hair flying into her face. She swept it out of her eyes with a slight shake of her head and then started back towards the open field were Ithil was kept. There was never a time when Lothlórien did not having a certain type of flora blooming; the field before her was full of elanor flowers that waved as the wind blew over it to cascade up into the gold trees. Ithil stood amidst the flowers with several other horses as they all stood strong in the wind. Her horse wheeled around on two feet and then cantered up to her, head tossing proudly as the wind played with her dark mane. Ithil's eyes sparkled happily as Coruwen brushed some of her hair out of her eyes.

"Having fun, Ithil?" She laughed as the mare nuzzled her mistress in greeting. She smiled, patting her mare's soft neck with the back of her hand. Coruwen began to turn to leave, but noticed that Ithil wasn't following. She cocked an eyebrow and then whistled for Ithil. "Ithil," The mare glanced up with a clump of flowers in her mouth. Gilion was going to have a fit if he found out Ithil was eating elanor flowers. The horse bowed her head and pulled up more flowers with an innocent look in her eye. "Ithil, come."

Nothing moved the horse from her spot.

Surely this horse was kidding… Coruwen sighed trying to keep her inner irritation quiet. She took a step toward Ithil and the mare still stood in the clearing with bits of flowers poking out of the sides of her mouth. When Coruwen saw that Ithil wasn't taking any part of moving, she started toward her horse but found that the mare was simply waiting for that exact moment to bolt. In a sweeping circle, Ithil galloped around her mistress and into a spot farther from her.

"Ithil!" Coruwen cried, giving the mare a hard look. She couldn't believe that horse! Was this all a stupid game? She knew that horses didn't like to be chased, but Ithil was patently making a game out of this. "Fine, I see how you are. If you don't want to come with me, then fine, but that will upset Losel."

The mare's ears twitched as she heard the name. Coruwen turned around and started out of the clearing. Behind her, Ithil trotted with her head hung slightly low. Coruwen felt Ithil's muzzle beneath her hand as if she were truly sorry for her actions earlier.

"And here I thought you were going to avoid me," Coruwen teased as Ithil's almond eyes glanced up at her in apology. The two made in back to the stables where they found Losel and Galadriel. Losel was a white mare flecked with spots of grey because of age and a sweet disposition. Galadriel held Losel still as the mares greeted the other with a quick bump of their noses. "Where did Uncle go?"

"Gilion needed him for something," Galadriel answered. "He hopes you can forgive him."

"I understand completely. The world is changing into a troublesome place after all." Coruwen said as she located Ithil's tack in the mess of leather and blankets scattered throughout the stable's closet. She honestly thought of calling Calenfaire down here to fix this mess; the ellon did have a strange knack for keeping everything in order. Her horse's tack was found in the corner furthest from the door underneath a few blankets. "Do you still find Himon unsettling?" Her question made her aunt narrow her eyes in question. "You told me a few weeks ago that he bothered you."

"He is rather… Troubled. From I can see; it is something in his heart that has festered into this strange air he possess," Galadriel explained. "Celeborn sees it as well. He would rather not have you under the protection of the Mirkwood general."

"It was Legolas' order to have them protect me. He still believes that I will wander into danger once more." She sighed. "I have no notion to run into danger anymore."

"I believe he thinks that danger will find _you_, nightingale. You are not the same as you used to be." Coruwen stopped tightening the straps on Ithil's tack. Her arm was beginning to burn once again. She stretched it a bit with the arm starting to shake as she did so. "Your arm?"

"Yes," Coruwen murmured. Her aunt came over to her side, placing her hand over her niece's gently. The tremors that rocketed down her hands made her grip slip and the saddle slip off of the side of Ithil and onto the floor in a heavy thump. A strong, burning hatred began to well up in her, starting at the bottom of her stomach and progressively climbing to her head.

"Coruwen, are you all right?"

"No, I'm not." Her voice was short touched by anger's snarl. She looked down at her left hand as it shook violently from the extensive use. "I cannot do anything right anymore! What good am I with only one useful hand?" She leaned her forehead on Ithil's back, silently cursing herself. Galadriel pressed a hand into her back.

"Little one, it will be fine. Do not attack yourself because of something you could not control." Her aunt left her side and picked up Ithil's tack. "I will help you with this, if you wish it of me." She nodded stiffly. "We will fix your arm in time, little bird."

Coruwen pulled herself up onto Ithil once the mare was tacked. Losel trotted ahead of Ithil and then onto the small pathway into the depths of Lothlórien. The trees began to whisper as they passed by with the wind carrying their gentle voices throughout the forest. The trees responded to Nenya and the power that Galadriel possessed; they loved her and sought the lady out whenever she was near. Coruwen looked up at the tops of the mallorn trees with their golden crowns being tossed in the wind.

"Coruwen, I do believe I received a letter from someone the other day," Galadriel stated, breaking the fragile silence. She clicked her tongue and rode up beside her aunt. "I seem to remember it being from Glorfindel…"

_He's never done that before… At least, not to anyone I've ever spoken with. _

"Huh… Do you know why he was contacting me?" Coruwen asked. Galadriel smiled slyly. "He was wondering if I was all right, wasn't he?"

"I won't infer anything," Her aunt teased. "But I have a feeling that was inside of the letter. You told me that he had become a good friend of yours many months ago."

She let out a small forced laugh. "Well, yes, but I didn't know he was going to be so concerned about me going off to Mirkwood."

"Your uncle was a slight nervous wreck when he heard you were going off to take care of the Elvenking. And I suppose that Lord Glorfindel would be no different, if he cared about you."

"He didn't seem too happy that I was going off to Mirkwood."

"What made you become friends so easily, if I may ask?"

Coruwen paused for a moment-a mere moment that seemed to lag on forever and ever. Her mind was stuck in a place of uncertainty. Shutting her eyes, she answered slowly. "He is very kind and… he makes me laugh. We don't argue like Legolas and I typically do. I find his friendship comforting."

"So it differs from the one you possess with the prince?"

"Greatly," She heard rustling behind her and she stopped Ithil. "In fact, we have made it a habit of seeking the other one out. It's rather interesting to say the least."

Her aunt chuckled and then rode beside her. On her lips was a knowing smile. Coruwen wondered why for a moment and then she stared up at her aunt in slight disbelief. Her aunt was inferring something, something that she would rather not have occur. She kept her face neutral despite the little voice in the back of her mind silent seething.

"I think you need to see something, little nightingale," Galadriel stated at last. Coruwen gave her a questioning look. "Come to my Mirror, later."

Turning Losel, Galadriel cantered back up the slope and back into Lothlórien. She was left blinking in shock at the statement, but decided that her aunt had been acting rather strange as of late. With Sauron's coming, Galadriel had changed. She started Ithil back up the slope, but once again heard rustling in the ferns nearby. Out of the ferns came Rumil like a ghostly fox.

"Rumil, what are you-?" Coruwen asked hurriedly. Rumil smiled up at her, grey eyes twinkling. "It's him, isn't it?"

"A bit," Rumil answered coolly, coming up to her side. Rumil had been the only one of the three that approached her openly like this. Orophin more than likely had gotten roped into believing Haldir's logic, but Rumil was always the one to go against his older brothers. "I just wanted to see you, robin."

"Rumil, you're going to get into trouble," Coruwen stated in a firm tone. Rumil shrugged. "You really don't care, do you?"

"Not really," Rumil deadpanned. "Look, robin, Haldir has started asking about you again. Meaning that he is starting to care."

"It was _his_ fault that he never told me about my real father!" Rumil flinched at the harshness of her tone. "I know he was trying to protect me, but he still could have told me."

"Robin, stop," He placed a hand on her knee to silence her. She peered down at him, finding him to being apologizing for his brother's actions. "He still cares about you. Orophin still cares, but Haldir is very set in his ways and has some pride."

"What are you trying to say, Rumil?"

"I'm saying that you should try talking to him." She glared at him darkly. "At least try. Please?" She gave him a slow, stiff nod. "I will trick him into something. I will come find you when if I can get him to come."

"Tricking him was never the best course of action."

He slinked back into the ferns. "Ah well, like I care."

~.~.~

She stared up at the vibrant sky; colors of gold and pink mixed together to paint the heaven's empty canvas. Her mind wandered to the space around her. The grove that kept her aunt's mirror safe was silent aside from the babble of the water. The dais that housed the silver dish reflected the gold from the sunset high above it and Coruwen stepped down from a log to approach it. This simple dish housed the ability to see far and wide, she reflected running her hand across the mossy stone. Behind her soft footsteps were heard. She turned her gaze from the mirror over to her aunt, who was standing on the steps in-between the stone statues.

Her aunt walked past her, gold hair and white cloth being slightly tossed as she gilded across the grass to the small fountain. The dwindling light from the sun flickered off of the pearly beads and kissed the white cloth a pale, soft gold.

"Your visions have been eluding you as of late, no?" Galadriel asked skeptically. Coruwen kept silent. Her visions had been no longer appearing as easily as they once did. She glanced over at her aunt, whose azure eyes were flickering with an implacable emotion. Celeborn had told her once that when Galadriel would start to perceive visions, her eyes would portray said visions outcome. Her eyes portrayed nothing that Coruwen could read. She moved around the dais carrying a pitcher of water and then poured the contents into the basin. "Tell me what you see."

Coruwen's inner self questioned that; her aunt could command this mirror, could see what others see. Why should she tell her? Hesitantly, she walked up to the dais and stared down into the still water. The light from the sky reflected upon the water's surface and slowly it began to alter. It began to flicker like a flame and then swirl together with veins of brilliant red as it flared and spat. This fire was wild, untamable and free. The vision expanded to encompass a great field burnt black with bodies strewn along and entangled together with faces of pure horror.

And then something black slithered on by in the corner. The fire still engulfed the vision, and even then the vision was still growing, expanding to take the shape of a battlefield pillaged by fire and blood. The vision's eye traveled up the great wall of fire to see the back of a serpent; long, sleek and blacker than ink. The serpent was blurry, but it was standing and bore no wings but four mighty feet. It seemed to be prideful like a lion with its head held high in the raging fire. Coruwen noticed something about it; it was turning very slowly to look behind it. Its eyes were perfectly round and swam with a great power that was on the verge of sickening. And they were bright green, in extreme likeness to that of a finch's feathers.

Inhaling, the beast roared so loud it deafened her and Coruwen tore away from the mirror with the roar still pounding in her ears and the creature's beady eyes lingering in her gaze. Her heart beat loudly enough to where it matched the deafening roar and made Coruwen's head ache. She sat on the dais trying to calm herself back down.

_What did I see? _

She swallowed hard-it looked like a long wyrm, like Scatha-and it petrified her. Why would she see a wyrm? Why that out of all other things? Granted, foresight was never ever certain, she reminded herself. Galadriel approached her curiously and then sat beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"What did you see?" Galadriel asked quietly. Coruwen tried to form words, but found that her throat was dry, as if the fires of the vision had swept all of the moisture from her.

Slowly, she answered, "A long wyrm… Standing in a field of blood and flames."

"Do you know who that dragon is?"

She shook her head; there were no longer any long wyrms in this world. Scatha was the last, unless one counted his heir, Smaug. But even still, Smaug wasn't a long wyrm by any stretch; Freya's blood was very strong in him. She glanced at her aunt, who met her gaze with seriousness flickering in her eyes.

"I've never seen a dragon that bore no wings," Coruwen replied with her voice still regaining its footing. "It was not Scatha for he was whiter than driven snow. Do you know?"

Galadriel shook her head in response. "I have seen only one dragon in my lifetime and I don't remember it well." She stood and sighed. "Will you be all right?"

"Yes, yes I will," Coruwen managed with a nod. She stood and followed her aunt back up the steps and still Coruwen felt the eyes of the beast looking down at her with their overbearing glare. Never before had one of her own visions frightened her to the very core. She outright refused to let the vision get the better of her despite her very soul quaking in the vision's presence. Perhaps it was all false and she didn't have to worry. That is surely what she kept telling herself over and over, but in her mind began to whisper uncouth words of the possibilities of such a frightening beast being real. Yet, the voice was shut out when she reminded herself that foresight had the chance of being real depending on what path you chose.

~.~.~

She was beginning to become nervous. The still of night was becoming intoxicating with its silence. Coruwen sat at her balcony running her fingers across the top of her necklace. The moonlight flittered across the sapphire to cast its silver glow into its depths. She leaned on the heel of her hand with lean fingers twirling the silver chain. A soft tap on her door made her clutch it tight to her chest. Swallowing her nerves, she answered the person to allow them inside. Orophin and Rumil stood in her room and made her step down to greet them.

"Robin," Rumil started. His voice held no emotion causing her freeze. It had come to this… "Do you still want to?"

"What harm could come of it?" She said in a slightly teasing tone. Orophin's countenance fell when he sighed in relief and Rumil chuckled. "Did you not think I was going to accompany the two of you?"

"Well, in all honesty, we thought you were still mad at Haldir," Orophin answered. Coruwen hummed, but nodded tightly. Her mind still had lingering resentment for her adoptive father's secret. She resented the fact he never told her, when if it had come to anything else he would have freely told her. Her heart had enough a long while ago, but chose not to argue with what her mind conjured up in the time it spent with itself. She sighed and Orophin placed his hand on her shoulder. "Stop over thinking things, little bird."

"I haven't spoken to him for nearly sixty years. Don't you think I'm going to be a little bit upset?" Coruwen hissed. Gently, Orophin pulled her into a tight hug.

"We will be there with you, my little bird." The sincerity in his voice made her smile and as she pulled back from him, she saw a hint of smile flicker in his features. "Rumil, you don't think he wandered off, do you?"

"Haldir? No," Rumil said as he started back towards the door. Coruwen exchanged a surprised look with Orophin before they chased after him. They stopped at the base of the stairs and then started off toward a small open glade, much like the one she left Ithil in.

"Rumil, where did you run off to?" A stern voice scolded. Climbing the slope was Haldir, and Coruwen swore that her feet dug into the ground and prevented her from moving any further. It was simply his voice that made her stop. That stern tone had become all too familiar to her ears, and for a moment-a mere split second-she thought about turning back. No, she had to do this otherwise she would never stop resenting him.

"I went to go find Orophin," Rumil answered with a cocky smile. He gestured back to Orophin. "See? Found him!"

Haldir's face betrayed no emotion. He was neutral, but his fingers tapped the pommel of his sword. A hand shoved her lightly in the back up the hill and she shot a glare back at Orophin, who smirked.

"I have no idea why you decided to find him. He isn't a lost puppy-," Haldir's speech cut off when Coruwen's eyes met his. Shock passed across his face but instantly he placed an unemotional mask to guard his shock. "Coruwen… What are you doing here?"

"We brought her, brother," Orophin answered. Haldir shifted his gaze to his brother. "You two have silently loathing the other for sixty years. Don't you think there is to be a change of pace?"

"What I did was simply what the Lord and Lady asked of me. Coruwen has simply started this immature way of thinking," Haldir informed his brother. Coruwen narrowed her eyes.

"Me? You could have told me! There was no order put into place. If memory serves, the order was to protect me, not blind me," Coruwen said. She caught the irritation glow in his grey eyes. "You could have told me about my father and mother all of that time, and you didn't. Why, I will never know. But I grow tired of the two of us silently hating the other."

"Do want to know why?" Coruwen heard Rumil and Orophin's footsteps fade away behind her. Her heart instantly sank to the ground. Haldir's gaze was stern, unyielding in such a way that made her nervous. "The reason I kept that from you was because you were given to me-,"

"You still could have told me."

"Let me finish. I kept it from you because you were far too smart for your own good. I knew that if I told you, you would start looking into things and when you did that, it would raise suspicion. Suspicion was never anything I wanted for you. And if I told you, there was a chance you would have found me false."

"Everything that you ever told me, I never found false. In fact, if you told me, we wouldn't be in this bloody predicament." She sighed, "What I want to know is why you never came back after I found out who I belonged to. Why you never came back and tried to help me."

"Because," He tipped up her face with two fingers so their gazes met. His gaze was cold, almost bitter. "After that point, you were no longer my daughter."

The words dropped like stones and seemed to echo in her mind. He turned on his heel and departed back down the hill behind her. He was right, but her mind refused to listen. It still believed the old ways that no longer stood. She had loved Haldir like a father, and his brothers like her uncles. Granted, she accepted Finrod as her father and Amarië her mother, but they did not make imprints upon her mind like Haldir had. They had memories, while her real parents hadn't. She closed her eyes feeling sadness well up inside of her. Silently-within her heart-she wept.

Above her, Coruwen heard the clopping of hooves upon the earth. Above Ithil stood like a dun-colored star. Her elegant head was framed by the moon's bright light with rays of light framing her black hair. The mare lowered her head to allow her mistress to touch her face.

"Ithil," She whispered breathlessly. Placing her hand on Ithil's nose, she felt the warmth of her horse crawl across her skin. She moved her hands up into her horse's mane as she leaned herself up against Ithil's head. "My Ithil…."

The horse clumsily lay down and allowed Coruwen to stroke her neck and chest. In an odd sense, it calmed her down. It calmed the nervousness, the stress, and the confusion that had built up in her soul. Smiling, Coruwen began to comb her fingers through her mare's hair and start to braid it.

"Ithil, I suppose I don't understand," She said tentatively as she snipped the head of a small purple flower and weaved it into Ithil's mane. "For years I considered Haldir my father, and he told me everything… But why he couldn't tell me that?" Ithil nibbled at the flower in her hand but she enclosed her fingers around it to keep it from her. "I mean, I think about it and I start… I start feeling like I have done something that I can't piece together." She threaded the next few flowers into Ithil's mane until the horse indignantly began to bite at Coruwen's hand for the flowers within. She knew Ithil understood her emotions, but whether or not she could understand words was another story. She stroked Ithil's ears and watched them flick back and forth as the sounds of night began to churn.

The stars are bright, she thought distantly. With the current events occurring throughout Middle-Earth, nights like this were rare. There seemed to be a permanent layer of smog that concealed the stars and moon. Perhaps, one day, there would be no layer of smog, no war that threatened the races, and maybe-just maybe- there would a sliver of happiness placed back into the world. One certainly _could_ dream, even if those dreams were possibly farfetched or silly. And then she thought about her parents… Her father and mother that lay across the sea in the west. It never crossed her mind that one day she would go there and meet them. What would she do when she met them? She forgave them with the understanding that a vision of Manwë had been gifted to her father telling him to send her away. Finrod had even stated that they had tried to speak with the Vala about the matter, but his visions are law… Laws-like chains- could be broken, but it came at a dangerous price of relinquishing yourself to a severe punishment.

Coruwen patted Ithil's cool neck and clicked her tongue for the horse to stand. With one ungraceful movement, Ithil stood and clopped away from her into the slight gully of the glade far from sight. She made her way back to her room completely unnoticed by her guardians. The breeze stirred the curtains and crept upon her skin, pricking it with its needle like fingers. She pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail after changing into a shift. The cold once more pricked her skin causing shivers to race down her spine. Grabbing a blanket, she settled herself in a lounge chair and began to play with Freya's scale necklace. The scale was smooth and deep red and tinted black at the edges, and it was warm like having the sun touch one's skin in summer. Oddly, Coruwen had never held it and had it become warm like this. It was strange to say the least.

_What does this mean? _

"_Our world is in danger! What would you have me do?" _Freya's voice echoed from the scale and she shrieked, dropping the scale. Horror froze her blood as she stared at the scale. She crept up to the scale to listen once more; finding Freya's voice had been replaced with a dangerous growl. _"You have no right to be here…" _

"Freya?" Coruwen whispered, picking up the scale gingerly. A roar echoed into her mind thus stopping her voice in her throat. That roar was ungodly familiar. It was identical to the one she had heard earlier. She wanted to scream out to Freya, but did not know what to tell the dragoness.

"_You will not take them from me… I swear to you, if you take them, I will take your life through fire and blood. And for every bit of their blood split upon your hands, I will make you suffer tenfold." _And then there was a long pregnant pause. Coruwen swore she felt Freya's pulse through the scale, or it could've been her own. She wasn't quite sure. In that period of time, she managed to pick herself up and settle back into her chair with the scale perched on her thigh. Her fingers rubbed the scale slowly as if to coax the queen dragon's voice out once more. Within her palm, the scale pulsated like a frightened heart. _"Leave now and never come back. If I catch you within my hold, I will rip your scales off one by one and then sunder your spines from your back, and you will be left for the carrions!" _

~.~.~

_That night, dreams began to plague her in strange ways. She dreamed she was with Freya, or rather a far younger looking Freya, who was in the prime of her life standing in a room of black and amber flame. She attempted to struggle to move, but her joints were filled with steel and lead. Looking down, she found she was chained; wings strapped on either side of her and snout chained shut. In front of her was a great dragon-male and black as ink- being beaten with a silvery chain lashed with spikes. His roar beat the walls as he threw back his head with black flame spitting from his maw in anger. The orc merely laughed in glee, and continued to whip the male as his howls became more and more muffled. _

_She looked at this male and saw that he was indeed not all black, but rather black and white. His neck scales dripped red-almost black-blood upon the floor and in fact the chain whip was coated rather thickly in it. Swiveling her gaze, she saw a small little female dragon with vermillion scales struggling with every bit of power in her petite frame to break the chains that held her. Her shoulder muscles rippled and broke the fine, delicate scales until she bled. _

"_Calm down, little angel," A honeyed voice cooed from the shadows. And suddenly fury stirred in Coruwen's veins. Pure green eyes sparkled from the shadows and a long, dog like muzzle started to part the curtain of black. A long snake slinked from the shadows, only with four paws and glittering with gold rings upon each toe. The wyrm was jet black and sleek. He nuzzled the small dragoness, cooing sweet words to her until she snarled at him sending sparks of anger into his veins. "Naughty, naughty, Aisha." _

_He gripped Aisha's head in one claw and pounded it in to the floor thus sending cracks spreading across the ground. Violently, the male dragon set his shoulders with claws digging into the ground and sent a burst of black and amber flame rushing toward the wyrm. _

"_Oh come now, Ancalagon, this is not how we treat old friends," The wyrm chastised. _

"_Friend?!" Ancalagon bellowed as he snapped back his fire. "You are no friend, you sick bastard! Get you claw off of my Bright-Scales!" _

"_**Your**__ Bright-Scales?" The wyrms threw his head back in laughter. "Now that's rich, you know Aisha here will agree to whatever I say." _

_Ancalagon looked at her. Eyes of purest ruby red that practically spat fire. "Let. Her. Go." _

"_The perhaps, I should go to your little ruby…" _

_Ancalagon's eyes widened in shock. "I hope you rot in hell." _

_The wyrm chuckled deviously. "All ready been there, couldn't get in… Sorry to break your little heart." _

_The wyrms started toward her with green eyes flickering with lust. His claw gripped her chained snout and breathed upon her. He smelled of old books and orc. His claws tapped the chains and began to break the links one by one. His honeyed voice whispered behind her. _

"_Fire and blood-," _

~.~.~

Coruwen sat up, gasping for air and shaking. Her skin was covered in a light sheen of sweat and she was tangled in her sheets. Never before had she dreamed of Freya, much less Ancalagon or Lady Aisha. She tumbled to the floor with her ankle still caught in the sheets before kicking it off. What was the reasoning behind the dream?

Grabbing Freya's scale, she headed up to the library in the hopes of remedying her worry. Within the hall, she found books about Aisha and Ancalagon but none about the strange wyrm in her dream. For as much knowledge as her people held, there was no trace of that strange beast. She had become frantic in her search and began uttering out curses in the elf-tongue as she paced. Her heart still beat wildly and her skin still slightly damp. In a flurry of anxiety, she strained her arm and she hissed in pain.

"Coruwen, what are you doing up?" A voice snapped her from her thoughts. She rubbed her arm and glanced up to see her uncle standing in the doorway. The slight sleepy look he possessed meant she had woken him from a possibly dream filled sleep. She sunk into a chair with her grip tightening to Freya's scale. He approached her and knelt down in front of her to look up at her. "Nightingale, you are clearly troubled, speak to me."

"I had a disturbing dream," She answered. A small mocking voice in her head teased her for sounding like a child. Celeborn sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder to bring her close to him. "I dreamt of Freya and her sires being tortured by a long wyrm and an orc until they were bloody." Tears started to sting her eyes. Ancalagon's roar tore at her heartstrings. Such a strong, handsome beast caged and being beaten bloody was simply sickening. Her voice cracked, "I cannot find anything on the beast that possibly hurt Freya…"

Celeborn hushed her, pressing a kiss on her head. "Can you tell me what exactly the strange beast looked like?"

"He had no wings, and was black and sleek like a fish. His voice was sickening to behold and he was strong." She swallowed her anxiety. "I never got a good look at him."

"That dragon sounds oddly familiar actually," Celeborn noted as he stood abruptly. Coruwen watched him walk up to a shelf and begin to sift through the books. "It sounds like you are dealing with the dragon of the Helcaraxë. The name slips my mind at this moment, but he fits your… description."

He handed her a book with a picture of a black coiled dragon sitting on top of a spire of ice. The eyes of the creature were beady and painted finch green. It was in extreme likeness to what she had seen in the dream.

"It does look like it, but it wore gold rings on its feet, and it had onyx claws. This one doesn't," She pointed to the claws of the wyrm, which were ivory instead. She flipped the page in the hopes of finding more information, but found a long wyvern sitting there instead. It was silver and oddly resembled the fell beasts that had been reported flying over Dol Guldur. She scrutinized the name of the page.

_Castamere, the Mourning Mother. _

"Castamere?" Coruwen whispered. Celeborn sat beside her once more and looked at the page. "She looks like the fell beasts…"

"Could be a relation," Celeborn said in thought. Coruwen leaned back and made a steeple with her fingers. "What are you thinking about?"

Coruwen swatted the air in a kitten like fashion. "That would mean that dragons have come back, but in a speechless, controlled form." Celeborn narrowed in his eyes in inquisition. "What I mean is that when Melkor and Sauron got their hands on Ancalagon, werewolves, bats, and many other creatures. He _also_ got a hold of Castamere and made her his little breeding pet slave."

"It makes sense, but he still would not have Castamere under his control… Would he?"

She shrugged. "It is very possible, uncle. We haven't heard anything about Castamere until now. I wouldn't be surprised if she still alive and simply being bred with her children to make more." She suppressed a shudder. "But it's not Castamere I worry about. It's this strange long wyrm that had taken my attention. If I figure out who, or what, this wyrm is; then I will rest easy. He clearly hurt Freya and her family and could possibly hurt her now."

"Coruwen," He drew her close to him once more and she listened to the beat of his heart before nestling her face into his robe. "The world is all ready beginning to change with the coming of dragons, and it is surely changing with the rise of Sauron. You're theory about Castamere is very plausible, but it shouldn't be our main focus at this moment in time."

"We have to help Frodo, don't we?"

"Yes, little nightingale. We must help the Ring-Bearer in whatever way possible."

She looked up at her uncle, "What does your heart tell you, uncle?" Shock flashed in his face for a moment.

"I believe that battle will come to us in one way or another. And one day, the sky will be bright once more with no hint of evil lingering." He replied thoughtfully. "Perhaps it is merely a fool's idea."

"No uncle, it's not." A smile touched her face. "I have dreamed of the day when dragons would return to not only Middle-Earth but Valinor as well. But I also dream of the day when Sauron will be completely gone off of the face of this world."

She left the library and her uncle to return to her room where she fell asleep without being plagued by a dream.

* * *

**A/N: So many Game of Thrones references its not even funny. Yes, two of the dragons are named after GoT houses, I planned that on purpose. **

_Review answers: _

_Seriya Silvermist: I am really curious, and when I saw that we knew who Elrond married and pretty much everyone else, I sat there was like "Why do we not know who Thranduil married?" Thus, that little idea was made, and it does come into play later. And thank you, dear. They take major tinkering with to make them who they are. _

**Please review. **


	13. Chapter 13

_**An Arrival**_

_Several Days Later…_

Coruwen sifted through lines of books with the hopes of finding out more about that strange wyrm in her dreams a few days ago. She didn't remember the last time she had left the library, nor did she remember the mess she had made of her uncle's library. She found books about Castamere, Ancalagon, Aisha, and countless other dragon lords and ladies, but nothing about that wyrm. A few books mentioned the lady Castamere possessing a mate, but he had no name. Each time Coruwen found his mention, she placed it into a pile that was reserved for later scrutiny.

_There must be something. I just need a name! _

She had slept lately, meaning her temper was starting to shine through her cracking demeanor. Perhaps she was going mad, and she was bypassing that dragon's name. She tapped her fingers on the wood of the bookshelf. To think, she had pulled so many books free and yet found nothing! It seemed almost… Unlucky.

"Nightingale, what have you done?" Celeborn's voice shattered her thoughts instantly and she tumbled to the floor when a book stood in her path. She hissed out a curse, rubbing her left arm where the point of the low table had connected with it. Celeborn gilded over to her, helping her stand. "How long have you been in here?"

"I lost count after forty eight hours," Coruwen mumbled, rubbing her arm. "That was terribly ungraceful of me…"

"You also made a mess of my library," Celeborn noted with a bemused expression. She glanced back, nodding. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"Castamere's mate," She answered, leaving her uncle to pick up a book that had been tipped on its side. A picture of the Lady Castamere was imprinted on the page with the mention of her mate nearest the bottom. Her vision became slightly tunneled for a moment, but she shook it off. "I-I can't find anything on him anywhere and it's-." Her words drifted off as her vision began to blur slightly.

"Nightingale, you haven't slept in three days. The least you can do is lie down for awhile." She shook her head slowly. He tipped up her face gently and observed her face. "If you fear about having another dream, I will stay with you."

Was that her fear? Is that why she hadn't rested at all? It may have been so, and she was simply unaware of her fright. Her body acted on its own and nodded. Eventually, she drifted off to sleep curled up beside her uncle, who was sorting through the numerous books she had tossed around in her frenzied search.

~.~.~

Galadriel was right. Coruwen had been worrying about the vision. Their little bird was becoming a tad anxious after the day with the mirror and then the dream. He closed up a book that had been accumulated by his niece in her search. He glanced down at her to see if she stirred, but found that she was curled up in a way that was reminiscent of a kitten in sunlight.

Little nightingale, he thought as he brushed aside some of her hair that had fallen in her face. She oddly reminded him of a young Galadriel; back many, many years ago. She was rather self-willed back then with the same being said for their niece. He saw his brother-in-law shining through Coruwen's spirit. Like her father, she was fierce and possessed many of the same physical attributes of him. From the time she was little, she had always been Finrod's daughter. The same ferocity and determination fired her blood as much as his.

He skimmed through the pages of a book Coruwen had found that she had placed in a pile all by itself. Words such as Ancalagon, Aisha, Saturos, Castamere, and Lannister… He halted on the last name: Lannister. The book described the dragon as a long wyrm, black as pitch, scaled like a fish, and possessed green eyes. _This _was the dragon. He placed it above Coruwen before returning to sorting.

"Celeborn," Galadriel's voice drew his gaze up. "May I ask what you are doing?"

A sigh escaped his lips, "Helping the little bird rest." And then he gestured to the clutter of books that lay strewn around the room like a hurricane had swept up every book in his possession and thrown them left and right lazily, "And slowly picking up the mess."

Galadriel smiled and came to sit beside him and let Coruwen place her head in her lap. "She is trying to make sense of her dreams, no?"

"More or less," Celeborn began to place the books back on their proper places on the shelves. "I know who she saw… She saw Lannister of Helcaraxë."

"That seems a tad uncanny, don't you think?"

"A bit," He turned back to his wife. He wanted to protect his little nightingale, but could not protect her from the visions that haunted her. There, in the world of dreams and visions- he could not protect her. "Ghosts of your past are coming back to find us."

Galadriel turned her gaze from him, her eyes shutting in thought. "Perhaps, he hunts the Queen and her heirs for their blood."

"Heirs? Why do you say that?"

"I have seen them, love." Galadriel ran her hand across Coruwen's head. "They are small, but they grow stronger every day. Our bird's vision made me think about the possibility of the dragon's return. Coruwen saw Lannister sitting upon a field of fire and blood. And the field is a place I know of."

"Oh?"

She touched his hand, halting him as he reached for another book. Her eyes held a serious, yet unnerved look about them. Not once had he seen her become unnerved.

"Tirion… Father's land," Galadriel stated. And her words dropped like stones into the room. "I made no mention of it to Coruwen, for I did not wish to bother her. But, that vision has been bothering me as of late. I know that foresight is never set in stone…" She shook her head as if to cast the lingering thoughts away. "I should know better than anyone that it could be nothing more than a dream amplified unto my mirror."

"That is more than likely, my dear."

~.~.~

They were strong, growing fast and soon would be able to fly. The sun had been laden with thick clouds and snow covered her hold. She stood from afar to watch her mate play with them. Heimdall – despite his great lengthy form – was playing with their babies, letting them climb all over him and tug on his wings or tail.

But one did not play with his father.

Her eldest prince was not playing with his brother and sisters, and had taken up a place on her back to lie in the dim sun. She glanced back at him; he was the strongest, and colored the most like a fire dragon. Vermillion and cream scales was his coloring and he had little spiny bumps on his back.

She named him Freyr, meaning Fire God in the tongue of dragons. And he was indeed her little Fire God, for he spat fire when he sneezed and coughed up smoke from the time he could wriggle around. Freya nudged him a bit; he woke with molten eyes staring up at his mother.

"Little Prince, go play," Freya urged as she picked him up with two talons to place him on the ground. He hissed and breathed a small puff of fire onto the snow as she set him down to run along. "Freyr, go play, you can't keep hiding. What king will you be if simply hide?"

Freyr huffed out smoke and padded off to see Heimdall, who was running around like a gigantic dog as his princesses chased him. Gods, the male could shake the ground! His strides were long with great muscles rippling beneath emerald scales as he moved. He skidded to a stop, sending snow spraying in every direction and upon _her_ as well.

"Heimdall!" Freya shouted as she let her fire heart's warmth spread across her skin. The snow dripped off of her and she stood to shake the water off. That man, she thought, never had any consideration for other people –or dragon's – personal feelings. "Watch where you are running!"

"Yes, dear," Heimdall replied in a feigned sad tone. He hung his great head with yellow eyes flicking up to her for forgiveness. She snorted out a bit of amber flame in response to let him go. Lying back down, she heard a loud screech high above.

A hawk from the region of Lothlórien.

It landed on her paw and then shortly after a raven from Erebor landed. The hawk let the raven speak first, as was the order of elders in the world of the aviary. She clicked her talons when the raven spoke.

"Easterlings have been reported on the northern borders of Erebor, my queen. They are moving swiftly towards the Iron Hills and will more than likely strike there within a week's time. Should they take the hold and garrison troops within, Erebor will more than likely fall." The raven reported. Freya quelled the urge to snarl. Damn the Easterlings! They needed more time, they _always _need more time. She gave him a gesture to continue. "Lord Dain has requested that a notice be sent to your eldest son in the Black Mountains, the son of Beorn, the Bird-Friend, and the Dragon Queen. A meeting with the free leaders of Middle-Earth must conjoin."

"Why Radagast, little raven?" She asked.

The raven cleared his throat. "To, uh, possibly get the Dragon Queen's favor. Or at least make her see the error of her ways and help the Lonely Mountain!"

Damn Dain! He's such a pushy man. It was more than likely the stubbornness born within each dwarf that drove his desire for Coruwen to step up to her title. Granted, Freya wanted Coruwen to come back as well, but there was surely no hope of fixing her if she was happy just to fade into nothing. It was becoming truly bothersome to say the least.

"Right… Send for the meeting and tell Dain that his snake wishes for him not to push his luck with the Dragon Queen." Freya told him. "There may be hope within her, but it is surely no coming out through force." She swiveled her gaze to the hawk upon her paw as the raven departed them. "And what say you, little hawk?"

The hawk was a proud creature, and feared no dragoness, or rather didn't fear her in the slightest. She watched him for a long moment, hoping for him to speak. Puffing out his chest, he spoke, "The Fellowship set out from Imladris and has made it to the sanctity of Lothlórien with minimal casualties. They have been in Lothlórien for a day now, and plan to leave in the early morning of tomorrow."

Freya shifted before cocking an eyebrow. "Really? But that is not what you wish to tell me, is it, little hawk?"

"Yes, my queen." He bowed his little head in respect. "The Lady Coruwen has been gifted with odd visions as of late." And those words made Freya's curiosity pique. She hummed deep within her chest, slightly unsettling the hawk upon her paw. "Ones of the past, and of the future. Ones with you and your sires, and of old enemies."

"Has she found out any names?"

The hawk hesitated with the concern of the matter beginning to make Freya's blood stir. "Lannister."

"What?!" Freya's voice startled Heimdall and the hawk shot into the air with little chest heaving in fright. "That traitor! The Earth Mother curses his name and his heirs!"

"She has seen him, and now seeks your insight out, my queen." The hawk shouted over her growls. Her blood boiled and churned up old emotions. Hatred, vile, venom dripping hatred. The kind of hatred one possesses deep within the chest and blackens one's soul to the color of pitch. "She wishes for me to tell you that all is not well at this moment. What should I tell her?"

Freya took a steady deep breath… Lannister that old, foul lord. She could do nothing at this moment, but she could help her dear one. She looked to the hawk, silently cooling the lustrous hatred in her blood.

"Tell her to make for Rhosgobel; I will be flying to see my son." She informed him. The hawk bowed his head and flew off. The sky reeked of orcs and smoke, and it all came from Mordor. She dove near Erebor and Dale to spy the cities beginning to churn with activity. War was coming to all fronts, she thought as she pulled up her wings to hover in the air high above Esgaroth. Brand had made it into a fine city for his people. But this city wasn't her main concern, she needed to find Smaug.

The misty hung loosely around the middle of the Black Mountains framing the tops of the trees of Mirkwood. The trees were black and the Enchanted River a murky blue-grey. The sight was rather… Depressing. Greenwood was once a proud, thriving forest and colored a dark lush green. She landed onto the side of a mountain, her nails digging into the rock and allowing her to climb up. She smelled the wind; Smaug was above her deep within his hole like a fox. Clambering up the side, she slinked inside to find her son far below her. Wisps of his smoke and his fire heart's warmth radiating up into the mouth of the cave; a typical boy attribute.

"Smaug!" Freya roared. "Mommy's home!" And then she dove atop her son, withdrawing a great growl from him. Up from his scales, she left his warmth intensify like she was standing on hot coals. A trait of her lost Scatha, who could withdraw or extend his inner core heat – or Scatha's case cold.

"Mother… It's good to see you," Smaug said through her paws. Freya saw his eyes flick back to her, great molten orbs much like her little Freyr and mother. She slipped off of him and laid down in the dark of his cave with him. He raised his head, giving her a wry smile. "What brings you to my hold?"

"A matter that must be dealt with immediately," Freya stated firmly. Softly, Smaug let out wisps of gold fire to illuminate the hole. Gold light painted the intercut carvings on the walls and shadow the handsome features of Smaug as he looked down at her. How handsome he was! His eyes were what gave him power; they were beautiful, a great mixture of gold and green.

"Mother, I do not have all day," Smaug continued, drawing her out of her reverie. She cleared her throat and crossed her paws. "As customs go, you speak first."

Inhaling, Freya summoned her fire-heart to life. The flame rushed from her maw as she sprayed amber and gold flame upon the walls. Shutting her jaws, the fire was instantly snuffed out but her lips burned with the excitement of letting flames loose on the world. Her son bowed his head and then turned to the same place she had burnt and he opened his maw releasing a hot jet of light gold flame. She smiled; the Earth Mother had given her a handsome son, for even his flame was beautiful!

"Now," Smaug stated in a formal tone. He looked at her once more, gold eyes sparkling with interest. "What is it you ask of me, dearest mother?"

"There is to be a council concerning the Eastern countries in a few days. Grimbeorn, Radagast, Thranduil, and Coruwen will be in attendance. I wish for you to attend for the sake of our kindred." Freya explained. Smaug raised one scaly eyebrow. He slightly bowed his head allowing the shadows to flicker across his face. It gave him a dark appearance, one of pent up irritation. "If you can, I wish for you to watch over our Dear one. My hawks tell me that she has been showing her true colors again, but she is still hesitant about fighting."

"She is an elf," Smaug snapped. "They will go to war if needed. And Coruwen has no reason to go to war. She wields no claws or teeth… What use is she?"

Freya sighed, silently regretting her next statement, "She has us."

And the reaction that came from her son was to be expected. Flame glowed behind his pulled back lips as he rose to tower over her. "We are not slaves!" His growl made her blood stir and she too, rose up to fight him off.

"I never said we were!"

She settled back down when Smaug's fire died down and his eyes widened like a child's. He shrunk back to hide his shameful outburst. Ever he was, his father's son. Then something... maternal, quelled the fire in her blood. She walked up to him, curling around him protectively. She had yelled at her baby, her little firestone. He was all she had left, and she just hurt his pride.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I never meant to let that side of me take control," Freya apologized with a gentle nudge to his head. He rumbled back to her with a click of his claws. "Will you do as I ask?"

Smaug placed his head beneath her chin, "Yes, mother, I shall."

He knew when he was beaten. Dragons, in all of their arrogance and stubbornness, would back down from the other when it came to family. Males would not back down to a challenge over females or land though. She hoped that Smaug's massive pride would not sway his opinion in the upcoming negotiations. Grimbeorn – lord of the Beornings – was known for his temper and Smaug was also. That could lead to a dangerous game. As she left, she heard Smaug begin to drift off to sleep once more. He could fall asleep anywhere, that boy. A swelling feeling of love took over her heart before she leapt into the sky.

_Sleep well, my little firestone. _

Upon returning back to the Withered Heath, she found her family asleep all curled up in tight balls and all nestled against the other. Heimdall's great body was curled around Freyr and his siblings; his emerald scales almost made him blend in with the shadows had there not been a sliver of moonlight filtering down upon him. She laid down at his head, reveling in his majesty. A strong face, high ridges above his eyes yet with touches of softness on his cheeks and long snout.

"You're staring," Heimdall whispered playfully, cracking open one yellow eye. Had he known she was here the entire time? A playful smirk lifted one side of his lips. "My dearest, you do love to look at me… But you _can_ touch, you know."

"Heimdall, for goodness sake," Freya scolded, touching her nose to his. "There are children here."

Heimdall chuckled softly before it drifted off to a sigh of contentment. "Yes, my dear."

Freya watched his eyes flutter shut once more in sleep. She exhaled heavily, and from the shadows, she saw something move. Her protective nature started to growl deep within her soul as she snarled. Bright, luminous eyes peered out at her from the shadows.

"_Monah_," A little voice peeped. Her anger ceased when she saw her little princess come from the shadows; her Nerthus, her little onyx. She was coal black and ivory like her handsome father with rubies for eyes. "What-?" Nerthus shrunk back, embarrassment passing across her little face.

Freya smiled, "Come to me, my princess." Nerthus looked up and she laughed as she climbed up into the forearms of her mother. She nestled herself close to her chest with sleep beginning to take her over. Leaning over her, Freya whispered, "Sleep, my baby… You are safe now."

Shutting her eyes, her mind became filled with visions of terror. Hours had merely passed since the hawk had uttered the name of that old lecherous traitor; his honeyed voice and piercing eyes were being drawn from the recesses of her mind like one draws poison draws from a wound. She could see Lannister standing on top of her mother, claws digging into her elegant head and pulling up so her eyes bore into his. She could hear Lannister's words slipping off of his tongue in an icy tone as her father roared and the rattling of chains mingled with the cackle of Thuringwethil. That sick, vile Vampire woman had made her father breathe fire on command as she beat him with a mithril chain. Melkor, that blasted Maia, had taken her from what she loved, hurt those she loved, and killed everyone she knew. And because of him, dragons had been wiped out in Middle-Earth and Valinor.

Horrors of her father looking at her with pain so deeply engraved in his eyes were drawn on the backs of her eyelids. She thought, all her life, that her father was a god amongst dragons. That Aulë and Yavanna had made the perfect creation in him, but Melkor destroyed him; used him, broke him, and made him a slave. Her mother, a beautiful dragoness, was violated and then killed by Melkor after she had become incoherent with madness shortly before Ancalagon's death. Freya had watched the rise and fall of the dragons; in fact it was the story of her life until her death. She had watched her kindred ripe each other to shreds like lambs put to slaughter. By the Father, if she thought about it too much it started to make her shudder.

Opening her eyes, she felt heat trickle down her cheek. She took a deep breath with the hopes of quelling the rising sadness in her chest. She still saw her father, proud and strong, lying in the shadows. Heimdall reminded her of her father… Her father, black as night and strong as ten mountains. Leaning over, she nudged Heimdall's head. Far in the back of her mind, she heard her father's voice speaking in their tongue: _Zaldrizes buzdari iksos daor._

_A dragon is not a slave._

* * *

**_A/N: Not much of an author's note other than I want to thank all of you for reviewing, favoriting, and following. It means a lot to me! :) _**

**_Quick Question: Is my current update schedule ok, or do you want me to change it? If so what days? _**

**_Reviews? _**


	14. Chapter 14

_**Little Bird**_

* * *

Legolas sighed in irritation as he fletched a stack of arrows. He could hear the voices of Aragorn and Boromir, and then the quips of the four Hobbits nearby. He could depict each of their voices now, well far easier than before at least. And intermixed into the voices was a sweet voice, one that made his attention become affixed upon the four hobbits. He set his arrow aside and rose to inspect what the others were up to.

The hobbits were all sitting on a fallen log with all their eyes landing on Coruwen. His heart was shot with giddiness as his eyes landed on her. A gown of the darkest purple hung around her lithe frame. Her pale skin offset the darkness of the cloth, and also by the grey shift that she wore beneath the dress. Sheer fabric draped over her forearms, casting a shimmering beauty to her. And then his eyes landed on the necklace at her throat. An oval rose colored scale with four sunstones guarding its sides.

The purple highlighted the gold of her hair and deepened the blue of her eyes. He could no longer hear silence, but rather the sound of his heart pining for her. He saw her gaze land on him, she smiled.

"Prince Legolas," Coruwen said. "What brings you over here?"

He had been in such a state of awe that the words that tried form became stuck in his throat. Her eyes stared up at him before she stood and approached him in walk that was reminiscent of a feline. "You seem rather… Happy…" He replied quietly.

"Well, yes. If we are going off of appearances, then you seem rather uneasy," She laughed. Could he honestly not come up with anything better? No wonder she had rejected him in Imladris… He was acting rather foolish. His feelings were turning him into a blithering idiot! A sly smirk flickered across her face as she turned back to the hobbits. "You can surely join us if you so wish, my lord."

Pippin looked up at her with shining eyes, "Oh, Coruwen, I never did ask, have you spoken with Freya since we last saw you?"

She paused, shoulders tense with uncertainty flickering in her features. Freya was so sensitive for her to speak of. One of the many things that she was sensitive about. He was about to speak to draw attention from Coruwen, but he heard the flittering sounds of birdsong. A small robin zipped past him, hovering in front of Coruwen. He knew that robin; it was one of Radagast's. The robin landed on Coruwen's finger, singing a frenzied song to her. Her face contorted in confusion, but he understood the bird.

"Coruwen," Legolas started, gesturing for her to take his hand. Her eyes rose up to his, and her hand snapped to his. "We will return in a few moments, my friends."

The hobbits nodded, and Legolas took her behind the bole of a tree. The robin's gaze flicked between him and her rather rapidly. He gave the bird a nod to speak. It sang to him, little wings flapping hurriedly as if in flight. It spoke of the leaders of Mirkwood and the Eastern countries meeting in Rhosgobel. All the while, Coruwen looked up at him with an innocent, yet frightened, look in her eyes.

"Well?" She asked as the robin's song ended. He felt her hand tighten around his, and he placed his other hand over hers to comfort her.

"It has orders from Smaug and Freya," He explained in a hushed tone. Her eyes widened, as she leaned up against the tree. "The orders are for you to ride for Rhosgobel so that Grimbeorn, Radagast, and Smaug may meet and decide the fate of the East." She opened her mouth to speak, but he anticipated her words and cut her off. "The orders are set in stone; there is no going against them."

Her face fell, and one of her hands swept back strands of her hair. "I know that Freya's word is final… But honestly, I have no desire to fight."

This elleth, for Manwë's sake… She was shutting down once more, the sparkle in her blue eyes suddenly died, the brilliance she possessed faded. He tipped up her face with two fingers, allowing their gazes to meet. How could he fix this? This strange part of her that randomly chose to have her withdraw so far back that he could no longer see her.

"Coruwen, you can't hide from this," Legolas whispered. She turned her face away from him. He inwardly rolled his eyes; what a terrible time to act like a child. "You are so strong," He tried to stop his lips from speaking, but the words had drawn to her attention. "All those years ago I saw such a strong lady, who stood before the eldest son of Thrain and challenged him like a wolf challenges another. But the day that he died, you died as well."

Her eyes widened and she took a step back from him. "What would in the world would you know? You never had someone you love be ripped away from you! You didn't have to watch him die, you didn't have to watch the lights of his eyes flicker and fade as he cast you away! You know nothing, princeling." She hissed as she glared darkly at him. Here, before him, was the lady he loved. A fierce being… The one who had slapped him when he tried to take her away from Thorin and his company, the one he had become enamored with. "If you wish to stand here and chastise me - then go ahead, but it will fall on deaf ears."

~.~.~

"Who did he think he is?!" She snapped, whirling around with anger boiling in her blood. She paced about her room, with her little robin friend sitting on a branch and watching her. Every single time she turned around he was trying to _help_ her. He irritated her, to put it simply. She clenched her hands into fists as her anger piqued. The robin sang to her, drawing her attention over to it. It was sitting on one of her letters; it was the one from Glorfindel. "Little bird, why do this to me?"

The robin sang once more, its little voice beautiful and sweet to her ears. She calmed herself, taking deep, soothing breaths as she walked over to the letter. Delicately, the robin hopped off as she picked up the letter. Glancing down at the robin, she found that it was quite intelligent; no doubt a trait of one of Radagast's birds. As she read the letter, she felt her anger ease up slightly. Coruwen could hear his voice through the words upon the page, and she missed him. Two months away from the man who was her dear friend started to make her heart ache.

"_You,"_ She said without looking at the robin. Its attention snapped to hers instantly. "What do you think I should do, hmm?"

Now, Coruwen had beheld the strange magic that Radagast possessed, and that he spoke to his creatures – even named them – like they were humans. This little robin must have been close to the Istar, for it flew over to her and started pointing at Glorfindel's name with its beak.

"He's too far, and even if he did come, what good would come of it?" Coruwen replied, rubbing its head with two fingers. It tweeted angrily at her and she flinched, "Little Robin, no." And once more it tweeted. She sighed indignantly, crossing her arms, "I suppose it couldn't hurt any." The robin cocked its head to the side. "_But_, I have to leave in a few days to reach Rhosgobel in time for the council."

And the robin chirped in agreement. It flew over to her desk, and wrapped its feet around a coil of paper before flapping its wings to lift it to no avail. She laughed, walking over to the robin and releasing the paper from its talons. As she began to write, she heard a soft knock on her door.

"Come in," She answered, dropping her quill. Glancing back, she saw Aragorn standing in the entryway of her room. "Aragorn?"

The Dúnedan smiled and opened his arms to receive her as she embraced him tightly. She pulled back, her hands still holding his upper arms. "Hello, Coruwen," Aragorn greeted with a small chuckle.

"Aragorn, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with the Fellowship?" Coruwen asked. Instantly, Aragorn's face fell, Gandalf's death was still heavy on his heart. He shut his eyes for a moment before looking back at her. She took note of his eyes; they were deeply grieved, but he was clearly forcing it away. She slid her hands off of his upper arms and then folded them behind her back.

"I thought I saw you storm off, and a certain prince wasn't too far away either," Aragorn inferred with a touch of playfulness hinting his voice. She cast a small glare over her shoulder at him, to which he smirked. "What did he do now?"

"He thinks I will turn back to the way I did all those years ago," She told him as she stroked her robin friend. Aragorn's face became curious and she sighed. "I have changed, Aragorn. I can feel it in my heart. Thorin's influence is starting to fade away, and I'm starting to feel… Happy again. I can't quite describe it honestly, but after Imladris, I have started feeling rather empty. Granted, the feeling of happiness is returning, but I feel like a piece of me is missing."

"He changed you…"

"Pardon?" She nearly dropped her robin, which was happily having his head rubbed by her. Aragorn walked up to her, giving her a kind smile. Despite his rugged appearance, he gave off a kind, calming air that Coruwen felt through her heart. It was the air of a king… And the nature was peeking through the cracks in his ranger outer shell. He chuckled and she cocked her head to the side.

"Glorfindel… He got to you."

She shrugged, "Maybe he has, and I'm a fool not to notice-," She paused. By the Valar, _he _had gotten to her. She wouldn't be writing to him if he hadn't, she wouldn't be trying to deny it if weren't true… "He…"

"He makes you happy, sister." The Dúnedan shook his head and she looked up at him curiously. "If you wish it of me, I will speak to Legolas to stop forcing his ideals upon you."

"A-Aragorn, that won't be necessary. I tore at him all ready," Coruwen ran her fingers across the parchment she had set out for her letter. She heard Aragorn's footsteps fading away and she stopped him, "Brother, do you think it would help if I asked Glorfindel to accompany me to Rhosgobel?"

"You do realize he would have to come from Imladris, correct?"

"I do. I'm just asking for an opinion. I have to meet with Smaug, Radagast, and Grimbeorn." Aragorn's eyes widened as he pondered something. He gave her a slight nod. "Well?"

"If you believe he will come to your call then by all means, ask him. If you can convince him to go."

She caught the slight smirk he had across his face as he sat down in a chair with his head hung. She shrugged, seeing how hard it could be to convince one lord to come; after all Glorfindel wasn't as stubborn as Erestor. As she began to write, she watched the little robin out of the corner of her eye as it began to inspect her inkwell intently. Coruwen sighed and mushed him away with two fingers. It chirped, flying away from her and over to Aragorn.

"Radagast?" The ranger asked, letting the robin rest in his palm. She nodded. "Do you know what he says?"

"The bird?"

"Yes."

She shook her head, "Legolas translated for me earlier." As she glanced back, she caught an inquisitive look pass in Aragorn's features as he looked at the little robin. She turned her attention back to her letter. "Do you speak the language?"

"Of birds?" He hesitated and then a slight amused tone touched his voice. "Yes and no; I only can understand bits and pieces, believe it or not."

"So, it's a Dúnedan trick?"

"More like Mirkwood elf trick."

She chuckled, rolling the letter into a tight coil. The robin flitted over to her, hovering before her as she gave it a smile. She started out of her room with Aragorn behind her as she went in search of a hawk. The Marchwardens were known for keeping them at hand, but it seemed they all had decided to hide from her. She glanced back at Aragorn, who was also looking to the tops of the trees to possibly spy a hawk. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she thought of the places a hawk would be.

"Up there," Aragorn stated, motioning to a hawk resting on a low branch with its eyes closed and beak nestled into the crook of its wings. They approached the tree, both staring up at the hawk. Aragorn's grey eyes flicked over to her. "Do you want me to get it down?"

Coruwen's eyes narrowed slightly, "No, I think if we just call him-," She was interrupted when the hawk's gold eyes opened to focus on the people below it. Her heart slightly jumped under the hawk's scrutiny, but saw that he was just curious; head cocked to the side and wings slightly unfurled to leap down. "Come here." She called in a soft voice. The hawk shimmed across the branch, and then leaped down to a lower branch near them, and blinked its great eyes at the pair. "Could you do something for me? Could you take this to Imladris?" She gestured at the coiled letter. The hawk blinked and then stuck out its leg for her. It lifted itself into the air, disappearing out of sight.

"Coruwen, what do you think will happen at this council you are attending?"

She tore her gaze away from the sky, pondering Aragorn's statement. "In all honesty, I have no idea. Never before has Radagast requested something like this. It must involve the Easterlings spotted near the borders of the Iron Hills." Aragorn's eyes widened. "Dís has told me that they are closing in on Erebor."

"Does the Lonely Mountain have enough power to withstand the Easterlings?"

"I would think so. It withstood five armies swarming at its base."

"But could it take the men of Rhun? They are far more ruthless than any army of men in Middle-Earth. Boromir has told me that the men of South are far less ruthless. This tells me that the Easterlings have something that makes them unparalleled in battle."

"They may have that, but I know the strength of Erebor's people and of her walls. With those two things in hand, the only thing that can destroy that mountain would be a dragon, and they all will not join in the fray without a command."

"Whose?"

Coruwen sighed, "Mine." The Dúnedan gave her a slightly puzzled looked and she touched her necklace. Freya's scale; the scale that could command the force of the sun's rays to beat down upon an army, smash keep walls with a simple flick, a force that could obliterate the darkness. "I possess Freya's scale, who is queen of the dragons. Simply put, I hold the chain and whip."

"And Dain wants you to use this power?"

"He believes that a dragon would secure his position should the Easterlings arise to fight. But I would not put Freya, Smaug, or even Heimdall's life in that sort of jeopardy. When dragons age, their fire loses its potency, their scales become soft, and the webbing in their wings begins to thin. Freya is starting to gain soft scales."

"Then what of Smaug?"

"The people of Erebor do not trust him! He burnt their city to the ground, and forced them to flee. I would not trust Smaug with anything if he hadn't proven himself useful to me."

"And Heimdall?"

"He doesn't trust me," She exhaled noisily. "And in addition, he's far too lax for war. The world could be burning outside and he would simply lie beneath his mountain and _sleep_." Aragorn smiled and then it was her turn to give him a confused look. There was a certain mixture of pride in his eyes that made her puzzled. "What? What are you looking at?"

He shrugged, taking his gaze and moving its elsewhere. "Nothing, sister."

Why was he looking at her so? His face told her that he was happy, as if glad to see an old friend. Perhaps she had said something? She stroked the bole of a tree, wondering why; why Aragorn had looked at her so relieved. Maybe what Aragorn had said earlier was true, that Glorfindel had changed her a bit. Coruwen didn't know if it was true or not, but within her heart she felt… Happy once more. There wasn't a lingering, doubtful weight in her chest, and in truth, it only came back when she thought about them. A smile touched her face when she thought about being free again. For the longest time, it had only been in the dizziest of daydreams, but now was a reality she was free to feel once more. Glancing over at Aragorn, she saw him fiddling with something around his neck… A white stone pendant that looked oddly familiar.

_Arwen…_

"She gave it to you, no?" Coruwen asked quietly, making him slightly jump. He dropped the necklace back into the confines of his tunic.

"Yes, just before the Fellowship left Imladris. She… She gave it up," He answered. Coruwen felt a bit of shock stir her blood. Arwen had given it up for him. "She would be far happier if she left for Valinor, but no…"

"Aragorn, she loves you." He glanced up at her with an expression that told her the answer to her statement. Smiling, she touched his shoulder gently. "If she wanted to leave Middle-Earth, she would not have given you that gift. She loves you, she loves you so much. Nothing, not even fire or war, could separate you from her."

"Words put actions into simpler terms, I suppose." He smiled tightly. "How do you know this?"

"At one point in my life, I would have done it for one man." She inwardly smiled; and hopefully she would do it again…

~.~.~

They were rising, serpentine bodies sleek and smooth as they hefted themselves into the skies with webbed wings pulling the air underneath them. They were no dragon; they were a serpent! A creature meant to slither on the ground; it could not command the air, or rattle the sky with its roar. Yes, humans feared them, but they feared many things; spiders, bears, death, and Nazgûl with their half-baked mounts that could be torn apart by any matured dragon. Smaug huffed; the mortals, and immortals, feared him and his kindred. The elves did not fear his mother as much, but they feared him and the guardian. The dwarves despised him, for which he understood. He would hate himself too if he burned down him home and then proceeded to horde many shiny things. He snorted; he stopped making sense to himself months ago.

Smaug tapped his claws on the obsidian floor of his hold. His mother had told him to play nice and council the mortals… and it included speaking to his queen about the Lonely Mountain. He was practically jumping for joy right now. The prince smirked dryly; oh yes, how _fun_. Babysitting the mortals because Mother was focused on her other babies. Granted, he should have been thankful that Freya even still bothered to see him anymore. He knew he had his father's cantankerous nature and habit to seek isolation. He liked being by himself honestly… No loud noises, no nagging, no having to share, and the whole thing that made it even better was that he could horde everything – or anything – he wanted.

Shutting his eyes, Smaug laid his head on the icy stone feeling its bitter touch seep in between his scales. As the Dreamlands started to take him, he heard a loud grinding sound upon the walls of his hold, the sound of nails grinding upon glass. His head throbbed as the grinding grew closer and closer, then abruptly halting just above his head. Play dead, he told himself, just play dead…

But a light, airy voice was heard above him, mimicking sobbing or weeping, or so the tone portrayed. He opened one eye, tracing the voice upward to the top of his hold to spy a fel beast sitting at his doorstep. Yet it wasn't at the same time. Its wings were not full of holes, or appearing to be made out of sheer webbing. It was a female dragon! She appeared to be built like a swan, covered in glistening, silver scales and her hooked wings grabbed the edges of his doorstep to keep her from falling.

_"Come, my children."_ She called over her shoulder, not regarding him in the slightest as she lifted her elegant body into the wind's control. She was no dragon, but a wyvern, simply a long wyrm gifted with wings. But what he found interesting was that she spoke in a long forgotten language; a language his father spoke when he was but a whelp. It was Ancient Draconic, something he had picked up from his father and mother. That meant that was a first generation lady of the Withered Heath; one who had survived the First Dragon War.

He would wait; he would wait and tell Coruwen or Radagast at the council. There was not enough time to fly to his mother, or even send word. He prayed to the Father, hoping, praying that history was not going to repeat itself. He stood, his limbs giving him grief as he climbed the high walls of his hold to stand on his perch to watch the surrounding area. He could see the old fortress on the Amon Lanc with a Nazgûl and beast circling above like carrions to rotting flesh. He felt the darkness radiating from the fortress in waves that beat upon his body like harsh waves in a storm. It was rising, rising up into the world and corrupting her beauty. The world that the One had made. If left unchecked; every bit of this world would fall to pieces, and according to the hawks, its fate lay in the hands of a Halfling…

~.~.~

Coruwen ran her fingers over the tip of a page, her eyes flicking over the words within. She had been sitting in her room with a pile of books for several hours now. Most were on the Dragon War that arose after Ancalagon was set free from Melkor's control, and Aisha had been slain. Nothing spoke of Lannister being the traitor in all of this madness. She stifled a yawn; this was beginning to get repetitive, the books were essentially carbon copies of themselves. Having had enough of reading, she set the book aside and moved around her room, straightening cushions that had been tossed around, or fixing the small bouquet of elanor flowers that sat alone on a low table.

A faint, hiss like whisper raised the hairs on her neck when she passed her bedside table. Her blood turned icy, flicking her gaze over to Freya's scale. Not this again, she inwardly sighed. She had enough with being traumatized with the bloody scale. She plopped down on a cushioned chaise sofa, watching the scale with narrowed eyes as if it were moving like a rat across the room and she were a cat. Something about it made her uneasy… It was giving her visions, visions of the past that made little to no sense and struck her heart with fear.

Her heart was pounding so loud in her ears that it drowned out all other noise. The curtains were thrown back as the wind pushed them aside to cover her in an icy wind. A wind that made her hug her knees close to her torso. Faintly, if she listened through the howling wind and her beating heart she heard anguished roars with the picture of Ancalagon and Aisha roaring in unison with jets of flame leaping from their maws. She shivered and withdrew further back into the sofa's confines in the hopes of it saving her from this madness. This scale was driving her absolutely insane! The visions made her feel every lash or roar as they happened. Some stirred her blood, some made her weep, and some even outright frightened her.

"Varda help me, this is getting out of hand," She hissed into her elbows, eyes still locked on the scale. Her mind asked if possibly Smaug knew what was going on with this scale and her visions. Then she corrected herself that he wouldn't know about Ancalagon or anything that happened in the Dragon Wars; he wasn't even thought about at that point in time. Coruwen slid down to the floor, walking over to the scale and placing the tips of her fingers on it. It was cool…

_"It was nothing, just my mind," _She inwardly reminded herself. She lay down in her bed with a slightly troubled heart, unable to cast the strange veil of mystery clouding the scale. Her world had fallen deadly silent after she had drifted off to sleep.

~.~.~

_"Little goddess," A voice whispered in her ear. Her vision peeled back to reveal the silver veined obsidian walls of the black citadel once again. She in Freya's body once again, but the chains did not bind her mouth this time. In an attempt to move, she heard the rattling of chains and her body burned with pain. "Up here, my ruby." _

_Glancing up, she met the garnet eyes of Ancalagon, whose face was marred by risen white scars and dried blood, yet it still held his handsome appearance. A smile creased her face at the sight of him lying beside her. Warmth spread in her chest as she gazed up at him as he smiled back at her. He lowered his face down to her and bumped noses with her. _

_"Where is Monah?"_ _She asked. Her voice felt so strange; this is how Freya felt when she spoke. Her voice came from her feet, up from the earth and rumbled in her chest. Ancalagon shook his head, releasing heart ache panging throughout her chest. "Oh by the Father, no." _

_"She's not dead, ruby. She is merely caged by that Iron Clawed Hag…" Ancalagon sneered, his tail that rested on her shoulder flicked angrily. "Monah will soon return to us." _

_"Bormah," She whispered laying her head on his shoulder. "Lannister did it again." _

_"I know, Freya, but I cannot do anything to stop him. If I could challenge him to a duel, I would, but Carcharoth would intervene…" _

_"We are not slaves! We are dragons! We are meant to-," The dragoness was cut off by Ancalagon's stern glance. "I meant no disrespect Bormah." _

_"Let me tell you something, my goddess." She cocked her head to side as she watched her father heaved a deep breath. He was so proud. Even looking like death incarnate, he was still set his shoulders with wings delicately folded on his back. "Zaldrizes buzdari iksos daor." _

_"A dragon is not a slave?" _

_"Aye," Ancalagon replied with a smirk. His red eyes fell on her once more; he gently nudged her. "Never, ever forget that, my little ruby." _

_The sound of a great, iron door's gears being pulled open made Ancalagon's smile fall so his attention was held on the wyrm that slinked through the door with a large, leathery bat on his head like a crown. Laughter bubbled up in her chest; Lannister, usurper of the Dragon King, had a bat for a crown! When Lannister's gaze fell on her, her heart sank. Those eyes made her shrink back as they became hungry with lust. The bat hopped onto his nose and landed on a protruding spike on the wall. _

_"Ancalagon," Lannister addressed coolly. The king held his head and returned a small bow of his head. "No response?" _

_"I do not speak with traitors, nor do I address them," Ancalagon informed the wyrm, his eyes flicking up to the large bat on the spike. "And why are you here, Thuringwethil? Come to torture me again?" _

_"Tempting," The bat replied. Her voice hurt her ears, it was shrill and hoarse. The bat watched as Lannister walked up to Freya, towering over her with ease as he cradled silvery white chains in his claws. "Now, little princess, we don't want you to interrupt Father dearest here." _

_Before she could speak, chains were clasped on her snout with a lust driven Lannister curling around her body and dropping his head on her head. Her scales crawled. Her mother had told her not to move, but just to bear her teeth and deal with the wyrm and his madness. But now she was subjected to watching Thuringwethil unchain her father from the wall and take a hold of the chain around his neck to pull her him to the centre of the room. Deep within her heart, dark hatred brooded, hissing and spitting like a pool of boiling water. _

_Thuringwethil landed on Ancalagon's head, and spun the chain around like a whip. "Now, what should target today, hmm?" The bat asked aloud. "What do you think, Lannister, darling?" _

_The wyrm slinked off of her, gesturing to her openly with the flick of a gold-ringed claw. Her heart jolted in her chest. Coruwen didn't know what was causing it, but Freya's heart began to pick up speed. The vampire bat smiled wickedly with amber eyes glittering. _

_"I agree," Thuringwethil agreed. With a snap of the chain, she addressed in a commanding tone. "Ancalagon, Mir." A sudden chill spent down Freya's spine as Ancalagon's pupils expanded to encompass his entire eyes aside from an almost invisible red line. The Vampire bat woman smiled once again, "Dracarys." _

_The king opened his maw with black flame spilling from it and covering her in a sickening heat. Her scales began to ache and burn as his fire did not cease. The chains on her body began to glow white until they snapped-. _

~.~.~

Coruwen bolted upright, her back oddly feeling the repercussions from the melting chains. Her body shook as she drew herself into a ball. She knew she shouldn't have slept! That scale was going to keep her up; her mind had told it was bad idea. She snapped her hand over to the scale on her bedside table, hugging it to her chest as her body quaked with fear. She didn't know what was causing this, she didn't like it, and she was getting tired of it! She could no longer sleep without seeing Lannister on the backs of her eyelids, or hear Ancalagon's sonorous voice.

"Freya, help me, please," She whispered as frustration welled up in her chest. Tears threatened to fall as it swelled and surged on her mind's walls. "I don't understand what you're trying to tell me!"

Perhaps it was the fact she was giving up and Freya didn't want her to? Maybe she wanted to show her that she was still with her, in spirit. But why show her memories of pain, suffering, and horror? It made no sense. She understood the part about Lannister, really she did, but why this? Her only bet of finding out what was going on was through Smaug.

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**A/N; Agh, this chapter gave me fifteen different kinds of trouble. I think I'm falling into the pit of writer's block again... I used Daenerys Targaryen's command from Dragonfire, because no other word quite made enough sense, or came off of the tongue easily like Dracarys did. **

**So, questions, thoughts, idea? Please, give them to me, I'd love to hear from you all in a review! :)**


	15. Chapter 15

_Head-Note: We have officially reached 4,000 views and 20+ reviews! Thank you all for such support! _

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_**Dreams and Memories**_

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Coruwen watched the sun rise over the tops of the trees that morning as she started to pack for her trip to Rhosgobel. The little robin had made itself at home in her knapsack before she closed the lid of it to set it aside. She found a pair of breeches and tunic and started to dress when she heard Himon and Calenfaire outside of her room, arguing. Grabbing a fur-lined cloak and her knapsack she opened her door to find Calenfaire staring down at her.

"Hi," Calenfaire said sweetly with a smile. "Uh, there's someone here to see you…"

She raised an eyebrow, "Oh?"

"Lord Glorfindel came very early this morning," He answered quietly. "Says he got a letter from you about the council?"

She nodded; heading down the flight of stairs with the younger brother behind her. Standing in the middle of the clearing was Glorfindel, wrapped up in a heavy cloak and watching the silent world around him. She glanced back at Calenfaire, who nodded and darted off in the direction of the stables. Approaching Glorfindel, she saw his eyes land on her with a smile brightening his face.

"You needed me?" He teased. She smiled back at him, rolling her eyes as she walked up to him. In a quick motion, he hugged her tightly leaving her mind blank for a split second – it was rather out of the blue for him to do so. When she started to return the embrace, he pulled back with his hands gripping her shoulders. "What do you need to go to Rhosgobel for?"

"A council that has been requested on Freya's behalf," She replied quietly. She glanced back to see if others were watching, and or listening. "Walk with me?" He nodded, offering her his arm, which she took as they walked. For a few moments, she was silent in an attempt to discern all of the swirling emotions and thoughts in her head. "I-I feel like I need someone's help; moreover, yours."

"Do you have any idea on what the council will be speaking about?"

She gripped his arm tighter, causing his gaze to flick down. "I think I do…. But," Her words drifted as her eyes became a bit hazy; almost like blue storm glass. He squeezed her hand and she gasped, looking up at him greatly shocked. "I-I'm sorry."

"Are you feeling all right?"

She sighed, squeezing his hand back. "I am out of sorts really. It's… It's hard to explain. The council was ordered by Freya concerning the Eastern lands. Since my title has some value there, I must go."

The more he looked down at her, the more he saw that she was forcing herself awake. The stress of an unknown matter was written across her face as she spoke. This council was wearing her down bit by bit… Or was it something else? Her eyes lacked their bright glint, and she had clear grayish blue circles beneath her eyes. His heart couldn't take seeing her like this. He wanted to ask what was _truly_ affecting her…

"I will help you in whatever way I can, my dear," He answered, cutting her speech short. She gave him a soft smile and pressed her hand against his cheek. He returned the affection by touching her hand, at first unsure of her reaction, and then encompassing her hand. He had a loose grip on her hand as he held it close to his heart. "It is only you and I that are departing?"

She shook her head, "No, Calenfaire is going with us. Himon is going to stay here with Gilion to work on some things." Coruwen giggled. "And Calenfaire drives Gilion crazy anyhow."

Her laugh was such a sweet laugh, much like her voice. By her voice, one might have never known that she looked so sickly. He almost couldn't match her voice with her face if he thought about it. Her hand slid from his as she slipped back to join the younger brother. He had watched that one; he cared about Coruwen in a brotherly way. He was far different from his bitter sibling. Behind him, Asfaloth stirred from his slumber to greet him with a soft neigh. He watched Coruwen out of the corner of his eye as she spoke with her aunt and uncle. Asfaloth nudged him in the side, bumping him towards Ithil, who swung her elegant head up to see who was before her.

"It's me, Ithil," He whispered, placing a hand on her muzzle. He sent a dark glare back at Asfaloth, who raked the ground with a hoof. Typical horse to play innocent, he thought as he turned his attention back to the mare.

"Did she become frightened?" Coruwen's voice snapped his thoughts loose. Her hands gripped the sides of Ithil's saddle, but her curious gaze was held on him.

"No," He answered smoothly. "I tripped." His mind was sending dagger like glares back at his horse for pushing him. Glorfindel turned and mounted Asfaloth, gripping the horse's reins tightly when he threw back his head in surprise. He waited until Calenfaire and Coruwen passed him to ride behind Ithil as they started towards Rhosgobel.

~.~.~

Mirkwood was truly a somber forest. The forest had little light filtering through the trees, giving it a ghostly appearance as the horses haphazardly trudged over risen roots and vines of nettles. The few times he had been in this forest, it always felt to be dying. The trees appeared black with the constant sound of churning creatures skittering their way in the forest's depths, made him rather unsettled. Coruwen had told him that her impression of Mirkwood had not changed in over sixty years; it still made her shiver and feel rather sick. He was rather glad to have her with him honestly; her hair was like a great sun in the dark.

"I think I found it," Calenfaire's voice called back. His attention lifted to land on a patch of dim sunlight streaming onto a great clearing. In its middle, sitting at the base of a tree, was a cabin… Or rather different sides of different cabins haphazardly nailed together at the base of a great oak tree.

Somehow it befit the Istar, He thought with an amused smirk. The group dismounted when they reached the circle of light that surrounded Rhosgobel. Coruwen gasped suddenly followed by anxious birdsong that echoed out through the clearing.

"Ah! You came back, little Petunia!" A voice laughed from within. The robin sang again, landing on a straggly branch in front of the door. It opened revealing an elderly man dressed in robes of dark brown with a floppy hat on his head and staff of gnarled wood in hand. His eyes flicked up and he jumped. "Elves? Oh no, what I have done? I haven't done anything I swear; tell Thranduil I'm sorry about the spiders!"

"Radagast," Coruwen stated gently as she approached him with caution. Slowly, the Istar blinked, cocking his head to the side identical to that of rabbit. "Do you remember me?" Coruwen took a step back as Radagast nudged her with his staff's end. He walked around her and then suddenly stopped.

"No, I don't, dear. I'm terribly sorry," Radagast replied in an innocent voice. Glorfindel sighed to himself. Gandalf had always said that Radagast was… Odd. Now he saw why; the Istar had the literal brain of a bird. The lord watched as Coruwen withdrew Freya's scale from within her tunic with the wizard's eyes lighting up. "Oh! Oh, oh, I know you! Y-You're the lady…." He smacked the side of his head. "The… The lady that traveled with the Dwarf King, oh yes! Now I remember!" He started clapping, but he paused. "What's your name again?"

"Coruwen."

"Ah yes, I knew that! You belong to Smaug, don't you? Or…. Or is it the other way around? Oh, fiddlesticks, I don't care." He peered around her to look at the others. "You have friends?"

"Yes," Coruwen turned, looking back at both Glorfindel and Calenfaire. "This is Lord Glorfindel of Imladris, and Calenfaire, a friend of mine from Thranduil's halls."

The Istar smiled wide, "Well I don't bite, come, come, my friends."

Glorfindel watched as Calenfaire bowed his head and left to gather the horses. Leaving him with Radagast and Coruwen. He walked forward, almost past Coruwen until she caught his wrist to drag him back to her side. At one point – not too long ago – that touch of hers would not have mattered to his heart or him at all. It was starting to affect him; his skin became touched with fire. Flicking his gaze down, he saw her looking up at him kindly before taking his hand. His heart's voice was starting rise, shouting at him to the point where all the words mingled together, thus becoming gibberish. He admitted that she had grown on him, but he didn't think it would… Turn like it had.

"You know," Radagast started, snapping Glorfindel from his thoughts. "I didn't think that I would see you after that little adventure, my lady. How _is_ the Dwarf King anyway?"

Coruwen's face became saddened as she looked at the floor. He saw her shoulders shudder slightly as she let out a forced, breathy laugh. He heard Radagast make a small, whispered comment as he walked up to her curiously.

"H-He's gone," Coruwen whispered, looking up at the Istar with watery eyes, yet her voice was firm. He was impressed that she could pull off a façade like that. She did not weep or even snap, but rather held her head high.

"Oh well, my apologies for asking. I won't press further, dear lady," Radagast said with a kind smile. A loud thump made him whirl around. The little robin was sitting next to a fallen empty vase. "Petunia! No, no, no, shoo!" He mushed the bird away with his hands as he picked up the vase. He began flittering around the room picking up various little objects and handing them to little mice or even a finch that carried them back to different places on high shelves.

As the Istar busied himself with the various little animals, Glorfindel let his gaze drift over to the elleth at his side. She still had glassy, sad eyes but was able to keep her emotions under control – or at least physically. He gave her hand a squeeze, drawing her attention up.

"Is something wrong?" She asked quietly.

He shook his head, "I should ask you the same. Are you sure you're all right?"

Coruwen's features softened a great deal. "His memory is sensitive."

"Does it bother you though?" She nodded. It hadn't been what Arwen had told him; she had told him that Coruwen turned into a grief stricken mess when she asked about Thorin. But to him, it seemed as if the king's memory had died down or was leaving her alone for the first time. He gave her a shallow nod.

"There." Radagast proclaimed at last. "This is much better!" And indeed it was. The little creatures – and Radagast – had cleaned up the mess that had been made from earlier. "Now, what did you come all this way to do?"

Coruwen sighed, abandoning his side to sit across from the Istar. "We came for the council that was requested by Freya."

Radagast's eyes widened. "Uh… I-I don't think I heard about this…!"

"Your little robin tells me different," Coruwen knitted her fingers together, placing her chin on top of her slender fingers. "It must be done, Radagast."

"Oh, bother…." The Istar sighed, defeated." I understand that the East must be defended, but there must be an easier way."

"I wish there was. I, for one, am done with fighting and war. It takes too many lives, causes too much stress, and most of all, can sever even the strongest of bonds. But Dain and Dís both have told me that the Easterlings have been sighted on their borders, the old fortress within Mirkwood's trees houses a great evil – one which you and Mithrandir both investigated – and to add to all of this, the Ring is moving southward to the mountain of fire. War will come to all fronts, whether we want it or not."

"You're right… We must do something, even if that something is something we don't want to do."

"I suspect that the council will meet… Tomorrow?"

"More than likely. Now, if you two would excuse me, I have something I need to check up on." The Istar left his home with several birds chasing after him. Before the door shut, Calenfaire slinked inside.

"Where's he off to?" Calenfaire asked. Glorfindel glanced over at the young ellon then returned his gaze to Coruwen. She had lowered her hands into her lap, with her eyes shut tightly. "Is… Everything all right?

"Yes, it is," Coruwen replied softly.

~.~.~

Radagast had yet to return for the entire day. Night had fallen without a sound; clouds obscured much of the sky aside from the small flickers of moonlight that filtered down from the skies when the clouds allowed it to pass. He pressed his head up against a wooden beam. For all of the rapid changes occurring in this world, this small area had not been obscured in the slightest. Even the people who had not necessarily wanted to change had changed.

_Even you have changed…_

Perhaps he had. But in what way had he changed? One thing he knew was that Men do not change easily, and elves do not change quickly either. Maybe it was the world that had changed and those who lived within are simply doing as the Earth wished. He wasn't going to try to make a reason.

_As you have changed her, she has changed you. _

Yes, yes she had. Without any warning whatsoever Coruwen had caught him, and he knew this because of the feeling within his heart. She had a certain beauty about her that he could not put his finger on. When she had spoken to Radagast earlier and there he had seen it; within her voice and posture it was there. Or was it her eyes or her voice that entranced him? Or was it just _her_? He sighed to himself, he was over thinking this whole thing. A great portion of his being loved her, and some that portion desired her; desired to feel what love she could give, desired to push him to love her, it was the part of him that stirred his blood around the Elvenking's son. It took every bit of him to keep that desire driven beast to be silent sometimes.

A soft, muffled sob drew his attention from his thoughts. Through the darkness, he saw Coruwen sitting up and shaking. He could see her shoulders hitching as she wept. Standing, he crossed the small room over to her side – carefully minding the sleeping Calenfaire on the floor.

"Coruwen, what happened?" He asked, taking one of her hands that had latched onto his sleeve. Worry rooted itself deep within his heart when she looked up at him. Her eyes were rimmed with red and the dying light from the outside cast shimmering lines on her cheeks from where she had been crying.

"I-I dreamed of it again…" She whispered. Strands of her hair fell in her eyes as she hung her head. "So much death… It-it's too much."

What was _it?_ It had clearly frightened her to death, whatever _it_ was. He wrapped an arm around her and brought her close to his chest. A small gasp escaped her when she was laying flush up against him. At first, her whole body was ramrod straight with her body still quivering in silent terror.

"Listen to my heart," He whispered as he began to stroke her back. Her hands slowly released its tight grip on his hand to come to lie on his chest. He inwardly smiled, she was calming down. "What is it you saw?"

"Each time I dream, I am in Freya's body. The first time was of her becoming captive to another dragon, the second was her father being forced to breathe fire onto her, and this one…" Coruwen hesitated a long moment, her nails digging into the fabric of his doublet. "This is the worst out of them all… It was when she was escaping. Freya watched Ancalagon rip his mate's head off and snap her neck, and I felt so… so helpless. I was chained, weak, and barely able to fly. I know now that Freya would not have escaped without her father's help, but…"

"It's all right, it is a just a dream. It cannot hurt you," Glorfindel told her. "You can rest once more, I will not leave you."

"I-I cannot do it again… There is just too much, and it will only come back."

An irritated sigh threatened to be released from his lungs. But yet, he understood. Dreams can be frightening things; they are wild and free unlike foresight gifted visions – which with experience – can be managed. Glorfindel had seen Coruwen be at her worst and her happiest, but now he was unsure where to place this particular scenario. Fear had taken a hold of her, and though he could not see it, he could imagine how she may have appeared.

"My dear, all will be fine. Just rest."

"Will you stay?"

That time, a true smile crept onto his face. "Yes, I will."

A long while passed until Coruwen had fallen asleep. He had taken up a spot on the corner with her resting her head on his chest, sound asleep. Glorfindel raised a hand and ran it through Coruwen's hair. The moon began to weave silver through her wavy tresses as the satiny hair wound itself around his fingers. An agitated grunt was heard nearby that made his attention lift from the woman asleep in his arms. Calenfaire's head peeked over the side of a chair.

"What are you doing?" Glorfindel inquired. His tone slightly shocked himself; it was neutral, almost deadpan. He was starting to sound like Erestor…

Calenfaire whirled around; eyes narrowed and mouth somewhat agape. "What am _I _doing? Says the one who is holding Coruwen!" He snapped back in a hushed voice. "Wait a moment… Why is she with you? You _were_ over there."

His passed a hand through Coruwen's hair again. "She… She has been having nightmares… Or that is what it would seem. She was positively horrified."

"But, you had to stay over there?"

"She asked it of me."

"I see…" The ellon's features softened as he brought his knees up to his chest. He spoke again in a far calmer voice. "Contrary to what the prince thinks, I think you are good for her. The prince would have never brought out the old Coruwen like you have done. He… He wants the Coruwen of Thorin Oakenshield to come back, but she's not that woman anymore. She was the Daughter of Haldir then, and now she is the Daughter of Lord Finrod. Her life has changed, and… And whether she realizes or not, she _is_ the Dragon Queen and she has to protect the ones she loves. If she was pressed enough, she would rise to protect anyone…"

"I would not let anyone press her to do anything. She has had too much stress in her life. Tell me; how long has the prince loved her?"

Calenfaire twirled a strand of his hair, "Sixty, long years."

"That long… It almost seems unrealistic. Has he not tried to move on?"

"Once, but it ended terribly."

"But why come back to a woman that does not love him?"

"The prince, as level-headed as he is, has been blessed with the king's short temper… This in the king's case, lessened when the Lady Faemes met him."

"It is but a one sided relationship."

"Aye that it is… And the prince is blinded by love."

"He causes so much trouble for her…" He looked down at her sleeping form. Her face was calm in blissful sleep, no longer troubled or stained by tears. "I wish to no longer dwell on such a thought. I am glad that you see the changes that I see as well."

"I will remind you this… Keep her safe and keep her close. My brother used to tell my sister that when we were young."

"You are awfully young to be giving out advice."

"I've been through a lot, my lord. But I suppose you are correct."

The young one shrunk back into the shadows, more than likely to return to sleep. Once the world had gone silent once more, Glorfindel shut his eyes and he too, drifted off into a light slumber.

~.~.~

A bird's song pounded on her ears to awaken. Her eyes cracked open, revealing to her blurred pale yellow light that streamed through tiny lopsided windows. When she tried to move, a weight on her back prohibited her movement. Where was she?

Beneath her hand she felt the rise and all of heavy breathing. Her thoughts of last night clicked back into place, she was laying on Glorfindel - or rather beside him now. Coruwen's gaze lifted up to his face. Strands of his gold hair hung in his face with one side covering one of his eyes. Mutely, she reached up, tucking back the section of hair behind his ear. He had all of his defenses down, and he looked peaceful. He cracked open halfway and a sleepy smile creased his face. A rush of heat pricked the tips of her ears as his arm slid off of her back.

"Good morning, my lady," Glorfindel whispered. Coruwen sat up, pressing herself up against the wall. He slid off of the makeshift bed and over to Calenfaire, who was asleep in a chair. "Wake up, little one."

"I'm awake," Calenfaire drawled, dramatically throwing an arm over his eyes. Coruwen smiled, gently running her fingers through her hair to remove the various knots. She watched Calenfaire remove his arm to look at her. Steadily, a knowing smile creased his face. "You're looking better, Coruwen."

She let out a hum, her fingers sliding across the scale on her necklace. A loud roar snapped her attention to the outside, where the earth shook with the arrival of Smaug. She bolted up, striding over to the door and out into the clearing to find Smaug towering over her.

"Little queen," Smaug greeted with swish of his tail. She chuckled and outstretched her hand for him. From his scales, radiated a great heat – which he controlled – as he pressed his snout to her hand. "It is good to see you."

"And the same to you, my scaly one," Coruwen replied quietly. His great eyes stared down at her, eyes that were swimming with fondness with softened features that spoke to her. "Missed me?"

"Greatly," Smaug chuckled, withdrawing his nose. His eyes traveled over to her companions, who were peeking out of Rhosgobel with curiosity. A muscle in Smaug's jaw twitched as his shoulders became set like a great wall. "And who are these two?"

Coruwen followed his gaze. "They are allies, Smaug. You all ready know Calenfaire, and the other is Glorfindel, a close friend of mine." The dragon physically backed down by lying in the sun like a great lengthy cat. Coruwen settled herself by his elbow with her back leaning up against his side. She waved for the others to come near her, knowing full well that if Smaug were to get to know them; they could not simply hide. Calenfaire approached Smaug first, but found that Smaug growled at him. "Smaug, play nice."

"They do not know customs, my queen," Smaug rumbled, shifting his front paws.

"Oh? And what would those be?"

"Lesser people bow."

"Then how come I must not bow before you?"

Smaug huffed out black smoke. "Because, you belong to my mother, therefore you are even higher than. I bow before you."

"I understand." She looked to the ellyn, giving them a gesture to bow to Smaug. She knew the temper of Smaug; it was short… And if they tested it, one might find themselves as a pancake rather than a being. Glorfindel and Calenfaire both bowed before Smaug, who in turn bowed his head to them to reciprocate the respectful gesture. The two came to stand beside the great dragon until a voice from within the bush drew their gazes.

"Stop! No!" Radagast's voice shouted. Out of the trees' thicket burst a bunch of wild hares that zipped past Rhosgobel and back into the trees once more. Following after them was Radagast with one hare hopping after him. The Istar panted for a moment before picking himself back up and chasing after the rabbits. Coruwen smiled, feeling a laugh well up in her chest at the sight of the clumsy Istari. "I said stop, confound it!"

"I see he has not changed," Smaug commented thoughtfully. That was right; Smaug was in constant partnership with the Istar. He sounded partly amused to her ears. Then a thought prodded her mind: Freya and these strange visions. She felt a nudge in her side.

"Do you think he knows?" Glorfindel asked.

"What do I know?" Smaug interjected before she could answer. The two elves froze up; it was rather strange having another being eavesdrop. The dragon swayed his shoulders a bit. "Come now, i heard you both."

Coruwen hesitated a long moment, gazing up at the prince. Great scales that housed the strength to tear down armies and mountains rippled as he shifted his weight around. It seemed almost like she was looking at a thin vermillion coat of mail that conformed to his body. What truly captivated her were his eyes… They were like a child's, innocent yet somewhere an ancient fire brewed. Not even the eyes of her people held such strength. She found her voice once more after she had stared into those eyes for a long while.

"I-I have been having visions," She started. Worry and trouble were all ready starting to cling to her heart and cause her to stumble on her words. "Visions of your mother and grandsires. And… And they are haunting my steps, and even haunting me to the point to where I can no longer sleep."

"Monah…" Smaug growled with lips curling back slightly. In a calm manner, he cleared his throat with his temper receding. "What you are seeing is something Mother wishes for you to see."

"But why me?" She cried, standing to face him. She stared at him incredulously, heart beating out of anger. "Why me? Does she not know that I cannot sleep? That I am shutting down?"

Smaug heaved a heavy sigh. "Monah is trying to show something; something that not even I understand. Perhaps there is a lesson to be learnt through all of this madness."

"If there is, I will be mad by the time I learn it."

Her hands tightened into fists in an attempt to control her frustration. She did not understand! There must be a lesson; Smaug had that pinned, but something was being portrayed that not even he could decipher. There was so much she was confused about. Shutting her eyes, she began to pace her heart and breathing once more.

"Maybe… No…" She shook her head. That idea absurd! She held Smaug's curious gaze. "You're mother… She was tortured, yet she came out of that ordeal to come to rule over your entire race. There is a symbolism there."

Smaug tipped his head in slight thought. "Aye, I see it. I do not know if you'd agree with this logic, but I suppose Monah is trying to get you to see that all hardships can be overcome. Through what method; I know not."

It made perfect sense! Freya now ruled over the dragons, but at one time she had been forced into an emotional and physical trauma that – had it been anyone else – would more than likely gone mad. Enough of their people had been killed to prevent any hope of survival, but Freya prevailed over all others. Many, many years had formed thousands of rumors that dragons were extinct, but Smaug and Freya proved those false. She reached up, touching Smaug's sand papery scales.

"You're right, my Smaug. It fits… Almost perfectly."

She placed her hands flat against his scales to lean into him, pressing her face up against the heat of his scales to bury her rising emotions in him. He smelled of smoke and dust; not exactly a comforting scent but in somehow reminded of her of Freya. Deep within in his chest, he rumbled that vibrated through her body like an electric current.

"Ah, Grimbeorn, glad to see you're not tardy," Smaug greeted in a mocking cheerful tone. Coruwen tore away from Smaug's side to be caught by Calenfaire. She took a deep breath before facing the welcomed group. Entering the clearing was a great dark brown bear touched with silver and at its side were a younger brown bear and a lithe lynx. Memories of seeing a black-brown bear formed in her mind.

In a smooth motion, the bears and lynx transformed into two men and a woman dressed in furs of their respecting animal. The largest man Coruwen affirmed was Grimbeorn the Old. Age had not treated him kindly; his face was touched with wrinkles and his hair was silver aside from a stripe of brown in his beard. The woman and man were quite young, appearing like the people of Rohan physically.

"Shut your trap, snake." Grimbeorn quipped, shooting a dark look at Smaug. Then the old man's gaze fell on the others. "Who are you three?"

Smaug smirked, "I am surprised that you do not recognize the Dragon Queen, or are you that dull?"

Fire flashed in the woman's eyes and she hissed at Smaug, wild hair making her appear like a true cat with hair rose upon end. The dragon let out a wisp of fire in warning. Coruwen could feel the tension in the air. It was close to becoming solid like rocks. Her heart jumped a bit when Grimbeorn stared up at Smaug darkly. The glare dropped when his gaze landed on her.

"A thousand apologizes, Lady Dragon. I did not recognize the elven lady that graced my father once before," Grimbeorn stated. She gave him a slight bow of her head. "The Elvenking wished it of me to tell you that he could not come. Something… Strange occurred earlier this morning."

"Spider attack," Calenfaire finished.

Grimbeorn did not take his gaze away from her. A small voice in her head began to whisper to her to turn away, but how could she? One thing she knew about Beorn was that you never, ever lose eye contact. And in her heart, she could not lose eye contact, it simply was not done. It meant that she was weak, something that she was starting realize was not true.

"We can get started whenever Radagast stops chasing his rabbits," Coruwen stated. "However, that _might_ take a while."

The Beorning lord scoffed "Does _not_ surprise me."

She could hear Radagast calling after his rabbits as they gallivanted throughout the forest around Rhosgobel. Sighing, she placed a hand on Smaug's shoulder.

"_Go get him, otherwise we won't see the Istar,_" She instructed him. She caught the strange looks of curiosity coming from Grimbeorn and Calenfaire. What had she done? She glanced over at Calenfaire first, who staring at her like she had lost her mind. "What?"

"You… You spoke a different language." Calenfaire muttered. She raised an eyebrow to that statement, but he shook his head. Turning back, she looked at Smaug.

"What did I just do?"

Smaug chuckled, "Mother's influence." He gestured to the scale around her neck before snaking his tail into the bushes to snag Radagast. "Thuringwethil could do it through the Mad King."

A scream drew her attention away from the thought of speaking the language of dragons. Granted, she only took her focus away from it, but still it could be heard in her mind; whispering and taunting her. It was strange, it was like switching between Sindarin and Common Tongue for her; the line that divided languages was transparent. She held her gaze on Smaug, who was glaring back at his tail as it scooped up Radagast by his ankle, dangling him high in the air.

Smaug dropped Radagast on the ground, giving him a slight glare. "Can we begin, little Istari?" The dragon grumbled.

Radagast picked himself up, slightly dizzy from the drop's height. "Yes… Yes we can." He mumbled. "Whenever the lot of you are ready."

Grimbeorn looked to Smaug, who in turn looked down at Coruwen. Steeling the frantic nerves within her body, she nodded, "Let us begin then."

* * *

**A/N: And I leave you guys with a semi-cliffhanger... Because I'm a goofy authoress. **

**Translations: **

**Monah: Mother **

**Nya Dare: My Queen **

**Bormah: Father **

**Review answers:**

**Seriya Silvermist: Yay, long review! :) Yep, Melkor royally messed up Freya and to add insult to injury, Scatha was not a big help after he turned. In a way, I do too... Legolas and Coruwen have such a one-sided love that it makes me wanna give him a hug. BUT I will not leave him loveless.. I don't function that way because I like asking myself "what if". You're also correct, Glorfindel would, but with the upper hand comes having to deal with Freya and Smaug and their protectiveness over their little elf. Ah yes, yelling NO at the screen... I've done that or I just stare at the screen all dumbstruck. Thank you for the review, dear! :) **

**Glorelwen: He knows her well, that one. But a wise man once said, love is blind... In Coruwen's case, the past is sorta blinding her from seeing what she has become. But, what Legolas has is unrequited love and it makes me want to tell him it's going to be all right... Poor thing. Thank you for the review! **

**Warning for next chapter, it's really dialogue heavy... So be prepared! **

**Anyway, hope you all enjoyed this chapter and please review, I love to hear from you all! :) **


	16. Chapter 16

_**Revelations**_

* * *

Silence clung to the air in thick layers. The only sound was of Smaug's deep breathing and the occasional whisper of the trees. Coruwen was starting to feel flustered at the silence and how men such as Grimbeorn and Radagast were putting up with this. To think, men – and dragon – of power were forced into a muted state because of the measly thought of speaking.

Smaug huffed out a bit of smoke in the form of a sigh, "We are not gaining ground being mute, now are we?" The dragon shifted his weight around in an almost nervous like fashion, wings slightly flexing and neck joints letting out loud snaps. "We came here to discuss the fate of the East, of Erebor and Mirkwood. We cannot gain such information from the other if we are going to play mute."

"Aye," Grimbeorn agreed with a stiff nod. "I have spoken with Thranduil concerning the forest. He told me that he plans to take up arms against Dol Guldur. That is, if the forces from within do not take his halls first."

"The last time I was within the halls of the Elvenking, he was injured, greatly. Sauron's henchmen are becoming brave if they could directly worm their way into the halls," Coruwen told the Beorning lord. "I have a fair understanding that the lord sovereign of Dol Guldur more than likely knows this land well enough to navigate past the typical tactics used by more… less educated commanders."

"And who might that be then?"

"It is a Nazgûl," Smaug interjected. "I have heard their mounts above my hold in the wee hours of the morning and late at night."

"We can rule out the Witch-king because his rule encompasses Minas Morgul." Coruwen added. The dragon nodded then returned his gaze to Grimbeorn. "That only leaves eight more to weed out."

Radagast narrowed his eyes in thought, "Khamûl."

The three speakers looked to the Istar, dumbfounded at his assumption. "What? W-Why would you say the name of the Black Easterling?"

"He… He pillaged these lands before. No doubt the Dark Lord knows this and put Khamûl in charge within the fortress."

Smaug grumbled out a few words in Draconic. "And he has the Silver Lady with him as well."

Coruwen's heart jolted in her chest. She had been right; Castamere was still alive and was being used. She leaned up against Smaug's side slightly to reassemble her thoughts. Her hands tried to tighten into fists but seemed filled with molten metal; her mind a frazzled mess of frayed nerves and shock. Granted, it was not a big shock to her. It just startled her, therefore muting her. She looked up to Smaug, whose gaze was trained on Grimbeorn.

"The Silver Lady?" Grimbeorn inquired, shooting an inquisitive look at the dragon.

Smaug sighed once more, "Lady Castamere, a dragoness from the first generation of dragon to walk in Middle Earth. She is the mother of fell beasts."

"You mean there's a _mother_ to the beasts? I find that a bit farfetched."

"If it was, I would not have said anything, bear."

Smaug's lips curled back into a snarl of warning. Coruwen reached up, touching his shoulder. The dragon's scales were almost like touching the face of the sun, but she dealt with the pain knowing that if Smaug continued there would fire being spread. It was bad enough Smaug had a short temper and Grimbeorn an even shorter one. Put the man and dragon together and one surely might have a miniature war. In an even tone, she spoke to Smaug telling him to calm down.

"It is but one small fragment in this large glass we are staring through," Coruwen said evenly. "What of Erebor's cause? What must we do?"

"I have no dealings with the dwarves and Lake-Men. That region is your responsibly, Lady Dragon Queen," Grimbeorn answered, suppressing the edginess in his voice. She gave him a questionable look, holding back a small retort. "Most were under the assumption that you would aid the dwarves should they need it."

"And how would I do that exactly?"

"I thought you would tell us that."

She let out a small laugh, one void of humor. The conversation was taking a bitter turn when it started to stir her blood. At that moment she managed through the constricting shock-induced bonds to tighten her hands into loose fists.

"Well, let me tell you something. I can no longer fight in war, I never could. I never could because of the past or because of the orders given to me by people higher than I. So, in the end, what good am I in war? Why ask for the aid of someone who cannot fight?"

"You have me and Monah, Nya Dare," Smaug corrected giving her a gentle nudge in the side. She placed her hand to stop him. What was stirred did not require his sympathy. She was surprised that she had kept her tone so even thus far after the statements given.

"I would not use you and your mother in such a way. You two have had your fair of punishment." Smaug's eyes narrowed. "I will not do what Thuringwethil did to your mother."

"But you are not the Hag," Smaug grumbled. "Through Monah, I am bound to you. I would more than gladly be your blade, Coruwen."

"I understand what you are-,"

"No you are not. Your bitter behavior is blinding you to what must be done, and what must be done is to help Erebor. That mountain is something you have loved for years and years, and you even loved the man who was supposed to rule it. His memory has long since faded yet you cling to it… Take away the blindfold, my queen. Take it away and look at the world with your true, bare eyes."

She took a mental step back. Her heart had been pierced by a metal rod, the metal rod that was the truth of the entire matter. Thorin's memory _had_ blinded her; she had openly let it blind her. It was clouding her decisions in this council, but moreover it was clouding her life decisions. She quelled the fire in her blood, stunting its rampage for now.

"You are correct, Smaug," She stated – at last – slowly. "If Erebor needs us, more importantly me, then let them call on me."

"Good," Grimbeorn mumbled. "Anything else need explaining?"

"Not to my knowledge…"

Smaug shook his head and then their eyes all landed on Radagast, who had been awfully quiet for the majority of this council. Looking at him, Coruwen saw that he was nervous, fidgeting with his robes or avoiding eye contact with the entire group.

"Radagast, what say you?" Smaug asked, cocking his head to the side.

"It's nothing… nothing at all." He let out a shaky chuckle. "No, no nothing at all."

Coruwen turned her attention away from Radagast to Smaug. _"What do you think is wrong?" _

Smaug never lifted his gaze, it was strong and indicated to her that he was sensing something wrong with the Istar, or rather his demeanor. _"He is not telling us something, my queen." _

"_Well, I can patently see that, Great Prince. But what do you sense?" _

"_He is not telling us something… Something that is indeed important." _

She heard a deep growl come from the Beornings. "Speak a language we can all understand, snake," The woman snarled, crossing her arms over her sternum. Coruwen whirled around, looking at the woman intently. In an instant, Smaug began to defend her with blade like teeth glimmering in the sun and eyes narrowed, shooting venomous daggers toward the lot. A cocky grin spread across the woman's face as she spoke to the young man in a strange, choppy language. "How's it feel, snake boy? Don't like it very much, do you?"

"Zira, stop it," Grimbeorn scolded, glancing back at her darkly.

"Pfft, sure." She raised her voice. "It's not like the dragon has any manners or anything."

Coruwen heard Glorfindel quietly scold Calenfaire behind her, but she held her gaze on the Beorning woman. Smaug's growls began to shake the air and his fire-heart was beginning to spread fire across her hand. She thought about releasing her hand from his side, but a small voice warned her that it would give off a false order to Smaug.

"Smaug, that's enough," She ordered. The dragon ignored her, growling deep within his chest with thread like wisps of fire slipping through the shield of his teeth. She walked up to his head, grabbing a hold of his mother's scale. _"Smaug, enough!" _

And like clockwork, Smaug's growls, fire, and anger receded like waves upon the beach. The woman was restrained by the older male, with Grimbeorn capturing Coruwen's gaze. Had she not known him well enough, she would have thought that he was intimidating her. He possessed Beorn's steely eyes, eyes of power, of old age. However, she herself was beginning to feel a certain sense of command within herself as she held his gaze. Steadily, she gave him a tight nod, which he returned.

"_A thousand pardons, my queen," _Smaug murmured lowly, bowing his head for her to touch. She reached up, rubbing one of his eye ridges causing him to purr – or rather rumble in the back of his throat. Deep within her heart, she felt a stir once more. The previous outburst beginning to prick her soul, yet there was something else bothering her. A dark presence started to kick up the bitterness in her heart, it started to frustrate her and cause her slight distress.

"If there is nothing more you need of me, I will take my leave," Grimbeorn stated over his shoulder. The group nodded together, watching as Beornings warped their forms into the shapes of bears and a lynx to disappear into the thicket. Having watched the Beornings disappear, Coruwen leaned heavily into Smaug's shoulder, feeling sick to her stomach. That presence surged in her mind to begin swallowing her. She heard Radagast whistle for his rabbits, and once summoned, he vanished from sight.

"Coruwen?" Calenfaire inquired quietly, touching her arm gently. She withdrew with the sickening feeling that ravaged her causing her to shiver. "Are you all right?" She shook her head. "Do you need anything?"

Coruwen's mind went blank; she needed to left to her thoughts but could not bring herself to tell the ellyn with her. She knew that Glorfindel would understand, but Calenfaire was far more stubborn. Glancing back at them, she found that Calenfaire was now leaning on Smaug's paw, but Glorfindel was sort of obscuring her view of him.

"I-I need to left alone for a little while, if it is not too much trouble," Coruwen said gently. Calenfaire nodded, patting Smaug's shoulder as he went back into Rhosgobel. It took her by slight surprise that he accepted her terms so… Easily. Surely, the boy was sick. That or Glorfindel had mentioned something to him earlier without her noticing.

She abandoned Smaug in search of Glorfindel. He was taken up a place near a patch of ferns with his sword in hand. He was rolling his wrist, apparently testing his sword arm. His back was to her, and it allowed her to watch his shoulders roll and react to his graceful movements. Without his cloak, Coruwen could see the well honed muscles of a swordsman beneath his doublet. He had rolled up the sleeves of it, and her eyes spied a thin, silvery line on his forearm. A scar; a battle scar that piqued her curiosity.

Then an instant flurry of motion of blurred silver and gold, he was standing in front of her with sword poised near her face, ready to strike her. Her body had little time to flinch but rather froze instead. Glorfindel blinked, then lowered his weapon and relaxed his posture.

"Has anyone ever told you not to sneak up on warriors? It could end up being your death, my lady," Glorfindel mused, retreating to the side of a tree to pick up his sword's sheath. She smiled at his reaction. It was fun to make him jump, and now she understood why he did it to her. He swept a hand through his hair, letting it come to rest on the back of his neck. "Did the Beorning Lord depart?"

"Yes, he did," She answered smoothly. A dark presence touched her mind once more. She tried to keep the edginess and worry from her voice as she spoke. "How come you are over here?"

"Eh, had to clear my mind," He leaned against the tree's bole, attention held on the ground, slightly flustered. "I'm surprised that you took that rather large step earlier."

"Which one?"

"Taking up the mantle of who you are."

His words came out in such a way that her blood stirred. "Well, it had to happen eventually , I suppose. Even though I'm not exactly _happy_ about doing such a thing."

"And why are you not? You deserve to be happy, my lady."

"Because, thinking about Erebor only worsens Thorin's memory. It reminds me that he died; it reminds me that I could not save him despite watching him lie there. It… It sometimes is a bit too much."

Glorfindel shook his head. "Well then why did you agree to help them?"

She looked up at him, trying to piece together why in the world he was doing this. This was not the lord she knew. She stared at him incredulously before letting the dark look fade. "It seemed to be the right thing. Are you not agreeing with me that it was?"

"Not at all, in fact I agree with your decision wholly. But what I wonder about is why, why are you regretting your decision." She opened her mouth to speak, but he approached her and silenced her with his index finger. "One does not make a decision like that openly. Either something is bothering you, or what you told the council was a lie."

She tore away from his touch. "I would not lie."

"Then why are you telling me different?"

"Why are you challenging me?"

"I am doing no such thing; I am trying to figure something out. Your mind is playing with what you hear."

"It is _not_."

"Coruwen, my dear, just tell me why." He took her shoulders in a tight grip to hold her still. He knew her all too well now; he knew she would flee if given the chance. Heavens, she was retreating just like Legolas said! The words that were trying to form did not come easily to her.

"I cannot fight." She whispered placing her hands on his forearms and pushed him away. "I do not understand why Dain needs me when I cannot fight in war anymore. In fact, I never have been able to. Like I said earlier, either I have been given orders to stay or I have been constricted by my past injuries. I am not happy because I do not understand why he would call upon me."

"Did you not hear Smaug earlier? He told you – in front of several people – that he would be your blade. What he can give you is an unstoppable power." She felt his hand rest on her left arm. "And I know you do not wish to use that power, but what other choice do you have?"

"I have the choice to avoid it."

"And what if you cannot avoid it?"

She narrowed her eyes up at him, head shaking ever so slightly. "Then I would fight, but it is not my place. Not anymore at least."

When she attempted to turn from him, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her back to him so that their gazes met once more. She had never seen him cross with her before, for she had given him no reason. The sternness in his blue eyes shocked her heart.

"Quit fighting this, Coruwen. Let the nature of who are become real. I have seen it before, I have seen it when you laugh or when you are at ease. But now I have seen it when you are under stress. Earlier, you stared up at the lord of the Beornings with such strength that I swore I saw another lady. Who I saw is who you are; you are a lady of Lothlórien but when times press you can rise up. You rise to become the Dragon Queen of Erebor."

"Glorfindel… You-," A loud roar stopped her speech short. Looking through the canopy of the trees, Coruwen's eyes caught brief glimmers of silver blotting out the sun. Her heart leapt to her throat when Smaug's roar shook the air as a warning to the unknown attacker. She glanced back at Glorfindel, who motioned for her to run ahead. Darting toward Smaug's warning, she stopped on the edge of the clearing to see a fell beast sitting upon the tops of the trees. It was staring directly at Smaug, beady eyes lit with anger. "Smaug!"

The dragon paid her no mind with gold eyes locked on the fell beast. She darted over to his side, placing her hands on his forearm. The fell beast flicked its gaze over to her then back to Smaug, and then a sort of wicked, serpent like grin crept on its face.

"Coruwen! What is that doing here?" Calenfaire shouted pointing to the beast.

"I don't know!" She shouted back, keeping her gaze locked on the fell beast as it swayed side to side as if preparing to attack. She heard Glorfindel behind her, and then appeared at her side. Dropping her voice, she muttered, "Go with Calenfaire, you'll be safer there."

"Do you honestly think I will leave you?" He hissed back.

She shot him a dirty look, "Now is not the time for heroics. You could get killed!"

"And I do not care."

"Glorfindel, go!"

He sighed shortly, "If things should go bad, I do not want to be the one having to take you back to Lórien." He took her face in a hand. "Be careful."

She gave him a sly smile. "Shouldn't this be the other way around?"

He shook his head then darted over to Calenfaire, out of the fell beast's line of sight. The beast's webbed wings flexed open and it leapt into the air, catching the wind in its wings to hover high in the air above Smaug. It let out a roar before diving down.

"_Smaug," _She addressed. The prince looked to her, eyes pleading for her orders. _"Kill it." _

A wicked grin formed on Smaug's face. He leapt up to meet the fell beast, catching it mid air in a spiral of silver and vermillion scales, tumbling into the thicket of trees not too far away. The fell beast cried out in pain as Smaug tossed it aside like a clean bone. Coruwen darted from the war path of the prince as he shook the fell beast in his jaws like a doll. Black blood seeped from the creature's scales as it tumbled to the ground before her. Smaug shook the ground as he ran at the beast, catching it in his jaws once again and claws digging into the fleshy underbelly of the beast. The blood colored claws dug deep into the flesh of the beast and tore.

Black blood spread throughout the tree thicket, coating Smaug's paws and more beginning to color his jaws as he clamped down on the serpent's elongated neck to snap it in half in a heavy crack. Coruwen felt her stomach turn at the sight of the blood coating the ground and the beast with only a sliver of its true scale color peeping through the mess. The body was twisted from Smaug's brutality; back limbs curled, wings broken and littered with branches and leaves, and its stomach was opened wide like a gutted fish from collarbone to tail tip. If her gaze lingered on it too long, she swore her stomach would truly turn.

"Coruwen!" Calenfaire called racing over to her side. His eyes widened as he looked at the butchered fell beast. "Oh dear…"

Coruwen shook her head, turning away from the sight of the beast, hand clasped over her mouth. She could feel tremors rocket down her spine at the thought of the poor thing. She had given the order and Smaug finished the job. She simply hoped he would not have done in such a morbid way.

"Coruwen," Glorfindel whispered. "We should probably hide this."

Taking a deep breath, she nodded, "Right. Smaug, come here a moment." She stated firmly, keeping the shakiness out of her voice. The dragon let out a rumble in response as he towered over the elves, gold eyes fixated on Coruwen, "_Dracarys." _

The dragon turned his attention forward to the fallen beast and inhaled deeply before spraying gold fire on the destroyed beast. As the beast caught fire, it was like watching a funeral pyre. The body seemed to take the flame like oil to erupt into a pillar of gold fire. Her heart shuddered in her chest, her body quaking with frantic nerves. She felt a pair of arms encircle her in a hug.

"It's all right," Calenfaire whispered above her. Never before had Calenfaire comforted her in their time together as friends. Gently, she pushed on his chest making him back away. "Coruwen, hey!" She left the two to return inside of Rhosgobel and collapsed in her nervous state.

~.~.~

The two elves were beginning to worry, it was plain to see. His fire had died down into a pit of charred bones and embers. He had washed his body of the thick blood that smelt of rotting flesh and ash. Now, he had taken up a place on the side of the clearing to watch the gold one spar with the young one. His body felt stiff, he hadn't taken anything as strong as he in a long time. Unlike before, his scales were typically fleshy like a coat of mail that conformed to his body and now it was like wearing the funny armor that the dwarves wear. By the Earth Mother, he felt old!

The young one's voice drew him from his thoughts, "Has she always done that?"

That one, the young one, he knew was Calenfaire and a good friend to his queen. He looked like his older brother; dark hair, striking features and a nimble body built like a snow tiger. Now, the other one was a different story. He was strong and tall, built nimble like Calenfaire but gifted with the strength of the sword. It was strange to Smaug how the gold one acted around his queen. It was not the same as the prince and how he treated Coruwen. This one truly cared, but in a way that the dragon could not put into words. His actions were the thing to watch, he reflected.

"Done what?" The gold one replied unsheathing his sword and rolling his wrist. The blades wielded by both were like liquid silver flashing like lightning as they snapped at the other like his own teeth. Calenfaire bounced on the balls of his feet then took a step forward with both knives drawn so that they grinded against the Gold one's sword.

"Has she ever broken down at the sight of blood before?"

The elf lord pushed the young one away from him, causing him to stumble backward and land on his back. They weren't focusing, Smaug noted, they are doing this to keep their minds off of the battle that had occurred.

"I thought you might have a better-," He caught Calenfaire's knife as it swung up to hit his shin, kicking the silvery blade away. "-Idea, seeing as you were there at the Battle of Five Armies."

"Ok, yes, I was. But honestly, she seemed fine until she found Thorin. After that, she sort of, snapped." Smaug's curiosity spiked. The King under the Mountain loved his queen once, but by no right did he love her in a way that he deemed worthy. The dwarf had once seen her as an object to possess when he could not possess the heirloom of his family. "Blood has never affected her like that. I assume it's just a reaction to what all is going on."

"Are you positive?"

Calenfaire picked himself up off of the ground. "Shock can do that to someone. I've seen my sister have a breakdown because of shock."

"What worries me is how she completely shut down."

"Do leaders not do the same when they command their armies?"

"Calenfaire, she shut down in a rather odd way."

"And you are worrying too much about her. Just let her sleep, worry wart."

The golden lord shot Calenfaire a scolding glance. "I am _not_ worrying."

The ellon smiled. "Yes. You. Are."

The lord twirled his blade up and smacked Calenfaire with its pommel. Smaug released a chuckle at the sight, drawing their attention. He could sense the worry coming from the elf lord in great waves. He cared about her in a different way than the prince – it intrigued him. Smaug paused in his reading of the elf lord. What was this funny emotion that he had about him that intrigued him?

"Little lord, tell me your name," Smaug asked. Calenfaire cocked his head to the side and the gold elf released a breath. "Well, come now, I do not have all day." Gods, he was sounding like Monah now. If this little lord cared about his queen, he would need to approve of him first – to find out, he would need to perform a little test on the lord.

"Glorfindel, great dragon," The lord told him.

"Tell me, why do you care for my queen?"

His eyes widened. "Well…" Glorfindel paused a moment, clearly thinking through his next words. His tone told Smaug that he was caught off guard by the statement; the uncertainty touched with confusion was plain to hear.

_Funny,_ he thought, _I thought elves were supposed to be gifted with silver tongues._

An amused chuckle desired to slip, but he controlled it knowing the elf's position. A small creak drew his attention instantly. Standing in the doorway was his queen.

He lowered his head down to her level beside Glorfindel to watch her closely. Stress and a strange illness plagued her. Her skin was grey and there were circles beneath her eyes, though faint and blotchy. Her eyes were dark, no longer the color of the clear sky. His queen was not quite herself.

Then in the depths of his heart, a familiar sense greeted him; territorial protectiveness. He watched the lord out of the corner of his eye as she walked up to him, whispering to him about something. Her words were frantic and disturbed, causing his emotions to stir once more.

Coruwen gripped the lord's hands in her own, staring at them with narrowed eyes. Smaug began to wonder why she was so frightened. Only one thing had frightened her that he had ever experienced. His mother's visions had frightened his little queen terribly. And it was the only logical idea that he possessed that could depict why she was unnerved.

"Smaug," Coruwen began uneasily, reaching out for him. He met her halfway, touching his snout to her tiny, thin hand. "Do… Do any of your half siblings look like a white and gold dragon?"

His eyes searched her for a moment, taking in the clear impact this supposed vision had on her. Her eyes portrayed to him everything about her current status. They spoke of a vision, a vision of this dragon that he knew nothing about. And then his mind began to reel back, thinking of his siblings that were so young; they only had their one scale color currently. Dragons do not gain other colors until they reach a certain age when they become mature, until then they stay one color. There was only one white dragon in Middle Earth currently and that was his half brother, Elathan. Elathan was the apple of Heimdall's eye, a mist dragon after his own heart, and whiter than driven snow but possessed no gold in his physical make-up.

"I only know of one white dragon, my queen," He answered sincerely, giving her a little push backward toward Glorfindel. She heaved a quiet sigh, nodding to him. "And that dragon is but a whelp."She blinked, cocking her head to the side. His great heart warmed at her little gesture. "His name is Elathan."

"I see… But he possessed no gold upon him?" Her tone became slightly hopeful for a moment, but then quickly dropped when he shook his head in response to her. She gave him a stiff nod, turning her back to him. He caught a glimpse of Glorfindel's unsure look as he made his way around Coruwen to look directly at her. The ellon was smart indeed, he was asking silent permission to see to Coruwen.

He watched her from behind, laying his head down at her side. She was built like an elegant feline in the eyes of many and he heard the people speak of her, Radagast, Legolas, and many others spoke of her being this strange animal that he had rarely seen. In his eyes, she was a dragoness, though very slight. He was quite surprised by her act earlier this day; the way she had spoken was reminiscent of his mother. Perhaps, without knowing it, his mother's influence had rubbed off. She was setting her shoulders differently, her eyes gained an encompassing glimmer of power, and she acted less… Withdrawn. By a stroke of grace, she was overcoming things at a rather slow pace, but at least she was changing.

She turned a glance back at him, when their eyes met; she smiled warmly up at him. Against his scales pressed her hand once more, this time quite firm as if giving him an order. He gave her a rumble in response.

"Smaug, I truly do thank you for coming," She said, her voice strong. "But if I have need of you once more, I will call on you."

He chuckled, raising his head up. "And I will answer, _Nya Dare._"

Her hand came to rest on her heart and she bowed to him. He outstretched his wings, feeling the wind catch them slightly and cool the hot scales that rested beneath them. Crouching low, he sprung up into the air to tame the wind to his command and observe the landscape. His hold stood out like spires of jet black rock high above the tops of the trees. The sky was clear; allowing him an undisturbed look at the Lonely Mountain with a prefect halo of mist resting on its crown and beneath it was a robe that draped it in blue-grey. Smirking, he rolled his shoulders to let the air roll across his back and carry him home.

~.~.~

"Stop touching things!" Radagast's voice shouted throughout the clearing. Coruwen froze up; dropping the braids she was working on instantly. She ran her fingers through her hair to comb out the tangles and started again, silently counting in her mind. "What have I told you? No, no, no!"

That time she had finished one braid and began to work on the other slowly, trying to keep Radagast's voice out of her head. Despite her best attempts at focusing on braiding, she failed to keep the Istar's voice out of her mind. Each time he shouted at Calenfaire it worsened the brewing thought induced headache she had given herself.

"Is he bothering you too?" Glorfindel's voice asked above her. She released a breath and tied the tails of her braids behind her head. "May I?"

She gave him a nod then let out a shrill whistle for Ithil. She honestly could say that she was no longer in her right mind anymore. A presence, dreadful and unsettling, had taken root in her mind. If someone was not speaking with her, it sat there and prodded her. It made her speechless, her tongue formed now of lead leaving her to somewhat articulate with her hands or other means of speech such as nods or shrugs. Sauron's influence had long since disappeared but now this strange sense returned… What was it?

"I assume you feel it as well?" He asked in a low tone.

Peering up, she saw Glorfindel staring ahead with a neutral expression on his face. After the experience with her constant nightmares, she felt her heart being plagued by a swelling emotion that caused her to almost fumble with any form of speech. She stopped listening to the echoes of past memories when he had taken her close to him. The timbre of his voice, the beat of his heart, anything about that memory caused the troubles that consistently bothered her to fade away.

Sighing, she tugged on the draping sleeve of her tunic. "I do… It feels almost as if the world is waiting for an invitation of some sort to move on. It is on the verge of maddening. I feel as though a reaper hangs over my head -," She glanced over him before taking a deep breath. "- a sense of… Abnormality that I cannot quite put together. What is it you sense?"

"Years have long since passed since I have felt such an occurrence as this. However, to me, it seems as though the world is taking a long pause – calm before the storm sort of feeling."

She gave him a slow nod, her heart constricting within her chest. Leaning back, she watched Calenfaire dart past Radagast and run out into the clearing near the two of them. He fell onto the ground and chuckled.

"Calenfaire," Coruwen said. His gaze flicked back, devoid of his past mischievous endeavors to be replaced with a mask of innocence. "Shouldn't we be going? I know that teasing Radagast is great fun but…"

"On it," Calenfaire answered, scrambling up onto his feet. He ran past Coruwen and Glorfindel to find the horses in the heavy thicket. A ruffling of leaves made Coruwen glance back. From the thicket, came Ithil, who trotted up to her giving her a nudge. She stood, catching Ithil's neck with one arm to stop the mare. "Hey, Asfaloth!"

The white stallion in question burst from the trees and whirled around in the clearing with elegant head tossing it the wind. He stomped the ground with his front hooves; a sight that made Coruwen glance over at Glorfindel. The lord stood, beginning to silently stalk near his horse, who swung his head around to look at his master with one fiery almond eye. When he got close to Asfaloth, the horse's body began to sway in preparation to bolt away.

But what came even startled her.

When Asfaloth dared to run, Glorfindel lunged forward, gripping the reins of his horse and pulled down despite his horse rearing back on his hind legs in fright. The stallion laded on the ground in a heavy thump, dust kicking up around his feet. Coruwen pulled herself up into the saddle then clicked her tongue for Ithil to move on.

"Quite a feat you pulled," She commented, stopping beside him.

"How in the world did you do that?" Calenfaire's voice asked. Both looked back at him, finding him gawking at Asfaloth, dumbfounded. Glorfindel smirked, pulling himself onto Asfaloth's back. "No, I am dead serious. How did you calm him like that?"

"Years, little one," Glorfindel responded. His tone was on the verge of playful.

"Wait a moment!" Radagast called, hurrying out of his home and out into the clearing. He came up to Coruwen and let out a short breath. "Times are changing, my lady. I beg of you, do not let your past get in the way anymore."

"I will not let them, Radagast," She assured him, placing her hand on his shoulder. He looked up, his grey eyes brooding with worry. "I hope that you keep yourself safe, Bird-Friend."

"And I hope the same for you, Lady Dragon." Radagast whispered. "Go, and let the winds guide you to safety." She bowed her head to him, giving Ithil's side a swift tap so she stared into a quick paced trot.

~.~.~

Out of Mirkwood, the small group came to leave the darkness of the old forest. But, all was not well… In the South, not too far away, battle called those to fight. In the South, upon the wall of a great fortress, armies fought to defend their lands from the forces of darkness..

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**A/N: Oh goodness... Anybody wanna take a gander on what happens when Coruwen gets back to Lorien? **

**Also, do you guys want to tell you when there are going to be character deaths? **

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**Answers: **

**Glorelwen: Yay! Hope to hear from you again, my dear. **

**Seriya Silvermist: The last part of your review made me laugh! All I can say is that I hate writing loads of dialogue.. Those two had to end up running into each other eventually; kind of no way to hide anymore. Thanks for the review! **

**~.~**

**Ideas, thoughts, predictions? Review, please? **


	17. Chapter 17

_**Forgiven**_

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Returning to Lórien brought forth an odd silence from the trees. The trees crowned with gold that spoke so earnestly and easily to all were deathly silent. Looking up to the sky, it was a murky grey, no longer bright like it had been in Mirkwood with a thin layer weaving its way through each leaf of the mallorn trees. The sun's greatness was obscured even to the world. Once passing further into the depths of the forest, one could hear nothing, just a silent abyss.

Slowly, the feeling of dread crept back into Coruwen's blood. Her hopes of returning home to a calm forest seemed to be far out of reach. Was this the presence she was sensing all of this time? If it was, why did it chill her blood so? But it was not just her that seemed to feel it either… Calenfaire physically shrunk back when they entered her aunt's realm and Glorfindel… Well, he had sensed it earlier than even she.

The two of them had been rather silent for the majority of the trip with this strange presence hanging over their heads. Occasionally, she caught his gaze flicking over to her, but each time she looked at him, she caught the flickers of trouble in his eyes. She began letting her mind free roam. By now, the Fellowship had moved on, more than likely toward Rohan or even toward the Black Gate by now.

She thought about the prince for a moment – seeing past her blindfold – and saw the love he possessed for her, but she inwardly shook her head. He may love her, but she did not love him. One might suggest that she try to accept him into her heart. She could not bring herself to, but no, not now, not ever. He reminded her of Smaug in the sense of his territorial jealously that came to him so easily. She knew what type of woman could love him and it was not a woman like herself. Seeing past the smoke and mirrors, she saw herself as far too strong willed and the prince himself was naturally gifted with strong will as well. It was similar to two rams… Both knew what they stood for, but both had their pride and refused to back down. She smirked; she hoped that he would find someone who could calm that raging stubbornness and protectiveness that he possessed.

And then her mind's thought process landed on Glorfindel, the one who had pulled her free of the thick web of previous haunts. He did not fear approaching her when she was upset or angered, which impressed her. Even people like Arwen or Aragorn – in a way – backed away from her when trouble struck her heart. She had developed a rather large crush on him, as of late. Since her trouble with the strange dragon dreams, to the trust placed within him concerning sensitive topics, she had grown to care for him.

Despite all of the thoughts in her mind, she thought of Smaug and the battle with the fell beast. That poor creature, however vile and disturbing, barely stood a chance against Smaug with his power. She had merely uttered a few words and murder had been committed without a second thought on Smaug's part. But this was the power of the dragon. She did not wield a blade in the normal sense but in the sense of a creature that leveled cities and rained fire down on the earth. Her blades – or blade – were living, breathing, with a set of scales stronger than mithril chains.

But this was war… War made thralls of even the strongest and wisest in this world. Then she had to put it into perspective, if Sauron obtained a dragon, Middle-Earth would be no more. It was by pure fluke that Bard had shot Smaug the first time in his breast. If there was a dragon on the enemy's side, there would be no fluke, there would be little thrush to come and save them. She had remembered Smaug's wrathful roar beating against the wind. The power was astounding yet horrid. To think, a creature with such power even existed still dumbfounded her.

Yes, they existed and _she_ could control them. A nasty, terrible power that almost made her hate herself for using it against the fell beast. Freya's visions had allowed her the tiny chance to command the dragons through a sickening twist in the beautiful language that is Draconic. The pit of her stomach turned, why not just let her live on her life? The simple answer was that she was the trusted one of Freya. What an idiotic idea to think when she was now committed to defending Erebor now!

Once more her stomach turned. As she peered up through the line of Ithil's ears she saw a rather strange sight.

~.~.~

They were falling… So many lives falling to spears and swords made of crude steel. And the chanting, how it deafened her. The flickering of fire upon stone, the screams of men and elves, and clearly in her vision was the White Hand. Her sight had been taking in every bit of the battle, she had watched the first of her people fall and with each blade being swung and wrapping its cold fingers into their flesh, she felt the pain that ripped through them.

The Battle of Helms Deep almost seemed… Unreal.

The seductive grip of the vision prohibited her from tearing away as blood ran like water. Battle's cries began to dwindle as her gaze panned over the armies that lay fallen before her feet. They lay strewn together like lovers with painted faces of horror on the grim faces of the Rohirrim and the fair faces of the Galadhrim. Behind her, dawn began to break behind the sun bleached mountains and with it, a horn rang out.

~.~.~

Galadriel had fallen silent many hours ago, and with it his bond to her seemed to dissipate. He could see the worry in her face, the horror clearly becoming something she had transfixed upon. But it only allowed the concern in his heart to brood with the unbecoming silence. Had he set his people to their deaths? He had spoken to Gilion and the other Marchwardens about sending an army to aid Rohan, and to him it seemed perfectly fine. Now with Galadriel's current behavior, he was starting to get second thoughts.

His attention was drawn away from his thoughts when he heard the light patter of his niece's footsteps outside of the door. No doubt she sensed the oddities brewing in the very air. The door opened quietly with Coruwen slinking through and then meeting his gaze. The furrow of her brow and the concerned look in her eye told him that she had indeed caught on, but knew little of what was occurring.

"Uncle," She said. Her voice was quiet with the ever so slight quiver of trepidation. Her gaze flicked over to Galadriel then returned to him. "What is going on? Where is everyone?"

He stood with a sigh, silently dreading the next words he was about to say. "We have sent many of our warriors to aid the battle currently occurring in Helms Deep." Celeborn said. Coruwen's eyes widened, her whole body seeming to falter for a moment at the intake of the knowledge. "Your aunt has been silent for hours now. I fear she has slipped too far into her vision. But I know she will come out with information for us."

"So we must wait?"

He gave her a nod then settled back onto his chair. Coruwen sighed sharply, her fingers sweeping through her hair nervously. "Nightingale, nothing will change if you leave for a few moments. And if anything does, I swear I will come find you."

No relief passed in her face like he had hoped. Celeborn watched her closely as she turned to leave him. The way she held herself was different, oh so very different. She seemed stronger, much like his beloved. The little nightingale he had known for many years was returning, though not so little anymore. Her father would be more than pleased…

An hour when Coruwen returned to him, cleaned from her travel and changed. She sat at his feet, her head leaning against his knee with her eyes shut. He leaned forward to stroke her hair, finding that she was beyond distraught at this very point.

"Nightingale, tell me, how did the council go?" He asked in a hushed voice.

"I told Grimbeorn that if Erebor needs me then I will answer their summons," She replied coolly. "And I… Maybe it is just my mind that is somewhat playing tricks on me, but I feel different after that council, Uncle." A small sigh escaped her, fingers tugging on certain long waves. "Do I seem different to you at all?"

"Each day you return from some place unknown, I see changes in you, my nightingale," Celeborn said. The edges of her mouth quirked up slightly. "Has anything else happened while you have not been in my presence?"

It was then that her smile fell, a clear sign that something had indeed occurred. She had told him many, many things over the years but there were certain things that he caught on his own without her aid. The prince of Mirkwood, the Golden Lord, the General, and many of the companions that had mainly come from Mirkwood. He had caught the unreturned love that the prince had for his niece with the certain strained ties that came with it. He had known that Coruwen openly spoke with the prince – they were friends even – but sometimes it can take a _different_ turn than one might expect. His niece had no romantic interest in the prince that much he knew. He had overheard them the night before she had left for Rhosgobel.

Then there was Glorfindel, an ellon he knew quite well from the many times he had visited Imladris. The one thing he feared about that relationship was how well Glorfindel could get to someone; there sometimes came a point where one could no longer anything from the lord. Other than that, the lord made his niece smile, sing, and even laugh.

He would end up being the one to decide in whichever once desired to court his nightingale. He had sworn to himself that after Coruwen's previous broken heart, he was going to pay far more attention to her and the men she loved. The son of Thrain had done more than his fair share of damage to his nightingale's heart.

"Uncle, may I ask you something?" Coruwen asked in a low voice, her face lowered. He gave her a nod, and then she took a deep breath. "How did you know Aunt Galadriel would be your bonded mate?"

His mind tripped over itself for a moment. Her eyes stared up at him with bright intent glowing within. "I was never the one who knew, little nightingale. I simply loved your aunt for who she was, all those years ago. It was not until after her and I had bonded that I knew that she had been gifted with a vision about her and I. Why ever do you ask?"

"I…" Coruwen tripped over her words, whatever what was trying to be spoken was clearly hard on her. Her hand rested on her heart. "Though I have not known love for many decades, my heart remembers and wishes to feel it once more. It cares for someone…"

"Coruwen, do you even-." His heartstrings became painfully strummed by Galadriel. He glanced up at her. Her azure eyes watched the two of them cryptically, but he could sense her agony surging upon his own heart.

"So many have fallen," Galadriel stated breathlessly. Coruwen stood, her eyes flicking over to him with anxiety etched within them. Her gaze drifted past them into the unseeing world of her foresight. He little of what occurred or how much of the world around her she perceived. Slowly, Coruwen stalked near Galadriel. The previous wave of agony had crumbed down into nothing at that very moment before roaring to life within him. He gritted his teeth when Galadriel sighed. "Ai, little bird, Haldir has fallen. I am sorry."

Celeborn turned his attention to Coruwen, her facial features beginning to turn with recognition, to denial and finally the fall of her fragile heart. "What? No!" She cried as she gilded over to Galadriel and fell before her. Her aunt took her in her arms as Coruwen's body became wracked with sobs. He sat beside Galadriel, gently wrapping both his girls trying to find a way to comfort the both of them in whatever way he could.

He silently prayed to the Valar to grant each of the warriors that had died that night to find strength and healing in the Halls of Mandos.

~.~.~

Freya kept silent vigil on the skies and her babies. The sun had risen and set during her time, yet her babies lay in the arms of slumber still. Heimdall had yet to return to her and the hawks had told her little of the outside world. Deep within her chest, she could hear her elleth's voice and the roaring waves of sorrow that crashed upon her own soul.

The skies were tinted a light red-pink, a sign amongst many souls that meant blood had been shed. Looking down, she cradled Nerthus in her forearms with her little eyes shut and body curled in a U shape and head slung over her mother's arm. Whelps could just about sleep in any position, anywhere in both Aman and Arnor.

Again the waves of her Dear One's sadness surged up, trying to claim her in their snare. Exhaling, fire began to kindle as the sadness grew and grew. A small noise drew her attention instantly as her little ones began to stir around her. Nerthus' willowy form wriggled as she stirred awake, her ruby eyes blinking rapidly with sleep. Freya bent her head, giving her little onyx a nudge to awaken.

"Monah, no," Nerthus rumbled, her little voice cracking as she grumbled. "Stop it!" Freya chuckled, nudging her princess again. She heard the clicks of Freyr's claws on the stone as he neared his younger sister, who lay beside her. The little emerald princess was asleep still, eyes heavy and breathing deep with sleep. At her hip, Elathan stirred awake, teal eyes expanding and contracting with the dawn's light.

Elathan took after his father, though built like lanky and not as broad shouldered. To her surprise, Elathan was purer than driven snow. She had taken to calling him her little snow prince rather than after the Wind Deity with whom he was named after. He slipped up onto her paw, watching Nerthus intently.

"Nerthus, wake up!" Elathan crowed, flapping his wings in slight indignation. His sister rolled onto her feet and let out a wisp of black fire at her brother in warning. Elathan hissed and dove off of Freya's paw onto the floor with Freyr and Nerthus trailing after him.

Despite the pains of her Dear One's heartache and agony, Freya was able to find joy within her children. She shut her eyes, listening to the quips and laughter of her babies as they played. As she drifted in and out of sleep, she could hear the roar of battle, the frightened screams of horses, the clamor of swords and spears upon shields, and the whistling of arrows. Somewhere far away, blood coated the land; she could feel the earth spitting back the blood it took in. But her mind's eye became transfixed upon one of the elves that had fallen this day. He appeared familiar to her, silver-blonde hair, eyes of quicksilver, and the armor of the elves now all tainted with blood. Her mind halted for a moment - this ellon was the adopted father of her Dear One, she had met him a long time ago. A stern man did he appear, but now dead before her. It was this – she sensed – that was causing Coruwen heartache.

She shook her head in disbelief - her poor, poor Coruwen. She had been told by Smaug that Coruwen had just regained a new stature, only for it to be destroyed. The world was cruel, Freya knew that much. It seemed to Freya, that Coruwen felt as if she was losing once again – her adopted father laid dead and her world beginning to crumple down around her.

"Monah!" Nerthus shrieked. Freya's eyes snapped open, her gaze traveling to Nerthus' call, finding that Elathan and Freyr had her pinned beneath them with Freyr tugging on her tail. Freya growled deep within her throat as warning to her brave sons, who manhandled their sister like she was a bone. Elathan ceremoniously stepped off of her and Freyr hopped off. Nerthus rolled onto her feet once again, her teeth flashing at both brothers. "Do not do that again, idiots!"

"Nerthus, they were merely playing!" Freya chided, swatting her eldest daughter with her tail in the side. "Let males be males."

"Of course, Monah," Nerthus apologized as she hung her head. A low timbre roar split the air drawing the attention of her Freya and her children. "Bormah!" Freya snaked her head out of the hold, peering up at her mate, who stood on the mountainside, chest heaving in exhaustion and yellow eyes wild. Something was wrong – she could feel the air's very presence shift.

"Heimdall!" She yelled, over the sound of another dragon's roar. Her mate's head swung to look at her, and he dove at her, coming to stand above her with body pressed flush up against the mountainside. "What in the name of the Father is going on?!"

"The Silver Lady has been spotted over the Lonely Mountain! The army of the East moves to strike the cities there!" Heimdall returned, his eyes began to search the sky. Freya's heart began to pound in her mind - the thought of the Mourning Mother coming here was astonishing! She turned back inside and gave out a call for her children to come near her. Nerthus, Freyr, and Elathan huddled around Zorya in a far corner to avoid detection. She clambered up the sides of the mountainside to join Heimdall in his watch.

"Did she follow you?" She asked. Heimdall let out a groan and she could almost feel the anxious gaze he held upon her. "Heimdall, how could you do such a thing?"

"I thought it was but a normal fell beast, dearest. A thousand apologizes on my part," Heimdall answered in a low tone. Above them a cry was heard, a shrieking cry that could have curled her scales – then behind them the crunching of trees was heard.

"Freya," A sad voice said gently. The voice chilled her blood; memories of Castamere's beady eyes staring at her with forgiveness in them haunted her steps. Castamere – despite her outwardly kind and motherly appearance – was as cruel as the wyrm she chose as a mate. Unlike Lannister, who was downright lecherous and brutal, Castamere fed someone young and naïve little white lies. "Little Ruby of the King, come back to us."

Freya whirled around, haunches preparing to spring her forward at the silver serpent. The Silver Lady sat upon a crunched tree, webbed wings hooked on the other trees for balance and wedge-shaped head tilted to look at Freya closely.

"Not unless I am dead," Freya snapped back. Castamere hummed sweetly, as she pulled herself into the air slowly. She watched the silver serpent rise and drift away with the winds carried her off. Freya's mind became frazzled, why follow Heimdall here only to drift off again? "That was surely strange," She thought aloud. "Why did she do that?"

"If she still works with Lannister, it could be for information," Heimdall offered, slinking back inside of the hold with her following after him. "But, dearest, did you hear what I said earlier – about the Lonely Mountain and Dale?"

"Yes, I did… If you would send a hawk in a few days time to the mountain once again to look over the armies, I would more than pleased," He cocked his head to the side and she sighed heavily. "Dear One is unhappy, currently. I can feel it within my heart."

Heimdall settled down only for a moment of peace to be quickly attacked by Zorya and Nerthus. They climbed on his snout, muffling his speech, "You told me the other day she was rather strong, for once. What has happened?"

"My memories tell me that her adopted father has fallen," Freya said quietly, though it was not missed by the snow prince. Always the diplomat, she thought amused. "She will fight if Dain asked it of her."

"I suppose so," Heimdall grumped, lowering his head so that his daughters could climb off of him without having to use their wings. She shot him a scolding look, contrary to what Heimdall thought, their babies needed to fly. Freyr could barely do it on his own as it was. "Of course, I would be more than happy to aid the little elleth, if she needed us."

"That's what I thought," Freya returned, picking up Elathan up off of the floor and onto his father's head. "And now you get to deal with him as punishment."

Heimdall rumbled out a curse as Elathan dove off of the crown of his head and up into the air gracefully. He needed no aid in flight; he had been so graciously gifted with flight ever since he had been able to flex his powerful little wings.

She hoped with all of her might that Coruwen would return to normal should Erebor attempt to fall. Though she refrained from saying anything to her mate, she felt that before the end – Coruwen would rise.

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A/N: What is this? Do I spy almost 30 reviews? You guys are awesome! P.S: This chapter, I hated writing, because well.. You guys know if you've watched the movies. :(

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Answers:

Glorelwen: Well, that's what we'd hope. Calenfaire was the one who described Legolas' relatoinship status a few chapters ago to Glorfindel. Coruwen is strongly keeping Legolas in the Friend-Zone..

Seriya Silvermist: *Dun dun DUN!* haha... Sorry, couldn't help myself.. :) Coruwen and Legolas have strong Friend-Zone qualities, and he's trying to get the old Coruwen back, not the one that's going to come back eventually. Our elleth has changed, just as Calenfaire pointed out. And it's not you, I'm a hopeless romantic as well; quite a terrible one in fact.

SarahWesley: Thank you, dear! I love hearing from new people! Thanks for the review and I hope that I can hear from you again!

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**Please Review! **


	18. Chapter 18

_Hey guys, we've reached 30 reviews, thanks so much ! :) _

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_**Rising and Falling**_

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_Several Days Later… _

Coruwen watched the people below, so few had returned, so many were injured, and death hung over Lothlórien like a shadow follows its person. She had rarely slept since the acknowledgment of Haldir's death had reached her from her aunt's lips. She was beginning to fear sleep once more, the very thought sleep being plagued with nightmares caused her to avoid such a thing at all costs. She had even isolated herself within her room, only allowing her guardians to be near her. A few rare times, she had heard Calenfaire and Glorfindel speaking outside of her door, but she dare not worry them with her current state of being. Despite her best attempts at keeping the two of them in the dark, she was more than likely worrying them.

She made a loose steeple with her fingers on the ledge, leaning heavily on her elbows in deep thought. Watching the people below once more, she caught snippets of the anguished voices of her people and the occasional wail made her flinch. To think, one person was designated with the charge of telling the family about their deceased loved one. She was sure that she could not do such a job; even being down in the Houses of Healing was rigorous task for her currently. She had found that is she busied herself with books, medicines, or taking care of the injured that it seemed to divert her mind's focus from Haldir.

Coruwen couldn't help but smile humorlessly – the man she considered her father for so much of her life was gone, dead, and his soul away in the Halls of Mandos. The ellon – who above all others – she believed to be unable to be taken down by any mere score of orcs. It was never a thought that crossed her mind, not even in the land of nightmares did it happen. It was maddening to know that he fallen.

A knock came at her door caused her to jump out of her thoughts. She swallowed the slow constriction that had built in her throat as a result of them. "Who is it?" She called, sating the crazed shakiness that threatened her voice.

"Orophin." The voice answered.

"Come in."

Orophin stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him silently. She approached him, catching the grief in his features as he turned to face her. His grey eyes were full of swimming sorrow at the loss of his brother, his heart broken and seeming to give him pain.

"Coruwen," Orophin started. His voice cracked ever so slightly as Coruwen looked up at him with her own heart beginning to break into pieces. "He…" He paused, clear signs of heartache's turmoil beginning to hitch his speech. Sighing, Orophin started again. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"And I am sorry for yours, Uncle," She whispered, pressing her hand against his cheek. She had cried her fair share this day, but surely her adopted uncles had not. "Did he… Did he fall as a warrior?"

Orophin nodded, "He died with a bloodied blade, my dear. But what took him was quite cruel… An Uruk-Hai plunged a blade into the back of his head." He stopped himself, causing Coruwen to retract her hand to her side. She gently took his wrist, leading him over to her bed to sit. "I'm starting to sound like Rumil for goodness sake!"

"At least he died with his warrior's honor, Uncle. He would have it no other way," She soothed, taking his hands in her own. Orophin reached within the confines of his tunic and withdrew a shimmering, iridescent bracelet with tiny vials hanging from each string like droplets of water upon a spider's web. Coruwen's heart stopped when she took in the small bracelet. She had sent that bracelet back with Faenaur when he traveled to Lothlórien from Erebor. The small bracelet was the twin to her necklace that her aunt had given her. That necklace was sadly broken now. "Orophin, where did you get this?"

Orophin dropped it into her palm, closing her fingers around the jeweled bracelet. "Haldir had it with him when he passed, it was found tucked close to his chest," Orophin said quietly.

Coruwen's heart finally shattered with tears beginning to well up in her eyes. For as much bitterness Haldir showed towards her, he still loved her. As the tears slipped down her cheeks, she felt Orophin pull her against his chest in an embrace. She wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face into his cloak.

"Hush now, little robin," Orophin whispered into her hair. Coruwen could hear the sadness that he tried to confine, but now it was nearly bursting at the seams as it surged up and over. She pulled back away from him, still holding his waist with one arm as she reached up and brushed away a stray tear that slipped free. He shut his eyes tight, trying to not show her the pain and grief that all rolled within him.

"It will be all right, Uncle," She soothed, despite her voice trying to choke itself out. "In the end, all will be fine."

He bowed his head, placing it on her shoulder as his own despair took him beneath the great, rolling waves and Coruwen beginning to fall with him as well.

~.~.~

_Later that evening… _

Glorfindel looked high up to the trees, silent concern prickling his heart. He watched the night sky that had come without a sound that day. Much of the world had been subjected to silence because of the returning forces, yet it seemed to take to this silence with odd easiness. But what truly concerned him was Coruwen, ever since she had heard of the death of the Chief Marchwarden; he had yet to see her. He assumed that grief had taken her, or she was refusing to let anyone near her out of safety. It was believable coming from her – the elleth that had been so easily shaken by grief.

Leaning back against the bole of a tree, he shut his eyes, listening for the possible slip of noise in the night. Lothlórien was far different than Imladris; there was no constant babble of rivers or the roar of waterfalls. This forest could fall deathly silent if the elves within chose to do so. A sigh escaped him when he thought about returning home – he would not leave unless Coruwen asked it of him or he felt as though he was no longer needed.

A quiet song drew his focus away from his thoughts. Opening his eyes, he saw Coruwen padding across the clearing, her strides fast causing her dress's sleeves and skirt to whip about her. His mind chided him when he stood, intrigued by where she was going. He shadowed her steps to a nearby glade, where she knelt before the roots of a willow.

"I am sorry, Ada," Coruwen murmured, pressing a hand against the roots of the tree. Her voice quivered as she gave a stubborn shake of her head. "I never meant to be so bitter towards you. I-I tried to fix that which was broken – truthfully, I did!"

Her body became wracked with silent sobs, and his heart began to weep. Coruwen held within her hand an object that caught the light of the stars, shimmering with its bright light.

She let out a huff of surprised laughter, "I never knew that you kept this so close to your heart, Ada. I suppose you weren't as bitter as I thought. Perhaps, one day, I will see you again. Maybe, Valar willing, Mandos will let you heal fast. And I hope – right now – they are keeping you well…"

Glorfindel shifted his weight and beneath him a twig snapped and Coruwen gasped, whirling around to face him. Her eyes were wild and slowly the wildness faded back into concern.

"Glorfindel, what are you doing here?" She asked firmly. He could hear the sadness tainting her voice and outwardly, she was keeping the façade of a normal elleth up quite well, even around him. Before he tried to walk near her, her voice snapped like lightning striking the ground, "What are you doing here?"

"I was worried about you, dear. So I followed you out here," He answered. Her eyes blinked in shock at the statement, and her features softened with a sad smile. "I have not seen you for a few days and I became worried that something had befallen you."

She shook her head, "I…I apologize for doing that to you then. I did it so I could sate this sadness within me. You understand, correct?" He gave her a nod and approached her, finding that she swiftly embraced him tightly. He could feel the quaking of her body as the sadness took her. She raised her head, tucking the crook of her face against his pulse with eyes shut tight. He gingerly wrapped an arm around her waist then cupped the back of her head, pressing her tighter against him. "These tremors have not gone away since my aunt spoke of his death."

He rested his chin on her head, feeling her willowy frame quake beneath his fingers. She did not resist when he pulled her closer to him with her fingers beginning to dig into his back.

"Do as I say, my dear," He instructed, his hand starting to stroke her back. "Listen to my heart and my breathing and try to match it with your own." He heard her take a deep breath with the steadiness of each breath; she began to cease the tremors that troubled her. "I swear on my own life, that I will keep you safe, come any trouble in this bent world."

"Glorfindel, you don't have to do anything as drastic as that." She muttered into his neck. He sated the desire that started to surge in his blood - the desire to kiss her, to take away the pain that caused her so much heartache – was becoming overwhelming. He shut his eyes, inwardly calming the rising wave of desire in his veins. When he opened his eyes again, he stared down to the long tresses that were delicately tucked beneath his chin.

"For you, I would. Have I not stood before a dragon and his constant prodding?" He felt a frown tug at his mouth at the thought of Smaug and his tests. A laugh ensued from Coruwen and she pulled back, her hands on his chest and a mischievous smile on her face. "Well, you try to deal with a dragon that is unforgiving when it comes to _your _safety."

"It is rather typical of Smaug… "She said thoughtfully. "However, it is not Smaug I would worry about."

He raised an eyebrow to that statement.

"Smaug may be pushy, but you have not dealt with Freya." Still the smile remained on her face, a rare and beautiful sight for him to behold. "She is where Smaug obtained his stubbornness from." His heart sank at the thought of the dragoness. Coruwen took a step back then reached up, pressing her hand against his cheek. "Thank you for helping me through that bout of despair…"

"You are most welcome, dear. Tell me, why did you come this far to speak with someone who has passed on?"

Coruwen's eyes dropped to the ground then trailed over to the tree. "Haldir was my adopted father, and despite the bitterness between us, I still loved him. He taught me everything I knew from the time I was an elfling. He, Orophin, and Rumil became my life for so long that I knew nothing else. But when he forsook me to let me be with my guardians, it forged a dark bitterness. He… I still love him like my father because no other ellon has taken that place in my heart yet."

"Not even Lord Celeborn?"

A wrinkle of concern furrowed her brow. "No, I consider him the closet thing I have to a father. But he is my uncle and I love him, there is just no ellon I can call father, I suppose."

"How is it that you have little memory of your real father?"

Coruwen sighed, settling down into the grass and he followed suit, coming to rest beside her with one of her slender hands taken within his own. "I have little memory of them because my aunt wiped my memory when I came to Middle-Earth. She did not want me to raise suspicion because of Sauron's previous disputes with my father. As a result, I was left with Haldir and his brothers so I could be protected and her plan was seemingly flawless."

"Until you ran off."

"Yes, until I ran off with Thorin. One of the biggest mistakes I have ever made in my entire life. His death has caused more than my fair share of problems, that I can admit to. When I found out that I was truly the daughter of Aunt Galadriel's brother… I was a tad shocked and rather indignant upon why I had been left with him rather than my guardians taking up the responsibility to take care of me."

"Dear, do you understand where they are coming from?"

She shot him a small scolding look before her features smoothed out once again. "Yes, yes I do. I have come to understand their thoughts upon why they did what they did. I do not hold it against them."

He stared down at her free hand and the glimmering jewel that she held within it. He narrowed his eyes at the jewel and reached forward to inspect it, catching her slightly off guard. He found that she carried an iridescent jeweled bracelet in her hand. He flicked his gaze up to hers, catching the shy embarrassment in her eyes.

"It is the bracelet belonging to a jewel my aunt gifted to me many years ago. I, sadly, broke the necklace and sent the bracelet to Haldir during that time period." Her eyes became darkened with grief once again as her voice cracked. "Orophin told me that Haldir died with it tucked against his heart."

Glorfindel tipped up her chin so her face looked into his. Her eyes were so dark, the color of the darkened sea and glassy. Her face – however pallid – was not stained by tears though some threatened to fall. She snapped her eyes closed as one tear slipped off of her dark lashes. He traced the lines of the tear away from her face then let his thumb brush against her cheekbone gently.

She let out short breath, "I can barely even cry anymore, so many have been spilled these last few days." Coruwen ran her fingers over the bracelet in her hand. He enclosed her fingers around it. "I have always despised fighting, yet it seems to take to me as flying comes to birds."

"I know the feeling, my dear. I once knew it well, and it seems that it takes to those who least deserve it." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tucking her against his side. "The only thing we can do is to wait and see what is to occur."

She sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder, "Glorfindel."

"Hmm?"

A sly smile crept up into her features, lighting her eyes with a playful fire. He gently nudged her sides and she squeaked in protest, shooting a half hearted glare his way to which he raised an eyebrow to her sudden behavior. Her eyes narrowed, clearly in thought as she looked him over. If she was looking for an opening, she was going to have to try trial and error. He took the opening she had so graciously given him by lunging forward to poke her side again. Coruwen yelped, sitting far from him with her legs drawn up near her chest.

"You think you are so funny," She stated in a mocking tone. He sent a knowing smile her way, the giddy, playful side getting the better of his more humble side. "Well, fine, have it your way then."

"Oh?"

Coruwen was clearly smirking behind the shade of her elbows as she looked up at him innocently. She lowered her head, her tresses falling in her eyes. The little games she played with him slightly tamed the beast that threatened him if she became to near. And he delighted in seeing her be light hearted once again, it befit her more than she could have ever thought.

He inched near her to reach forward and tug on a strand of her hair, but she started to laugh and suddenly he was being pinned by her. He gave her credit; she had caught him off guard rather quickly. Her gold hair fell like a great curtain around them as he stared up at her, his mind reeling with shock. He observed the features of her face as they stared at each other – both in disbelief that the other had done such a strange feat. His eyes traced the height of her cheekbones, to the fullness of her lips, to the tips of her ears. His mind snapped free of its loved stricken stupor as he rolled the two of them. A giddy giggle elicited from Coruwen as he gripped her wrists in both hands, holding her down to the ground.

"That was abrupt of me, I-," She hushed him when his grip slipped as she sat up. He sat back so she could fully sit up, and he watched her as she began to fix her mussed hair. Her fingers unwound a series of braids in her hair before she picked out the blades of grass and willow leaves. Looking up at him, she smiled and covered her mouth with a hand. "What?"

She crawled close to him, reaching up and withdrawing a willow leaf from his hair with two fingers and an expectant look on her face. "You have bits of nature in your hair, Glorfindel." She laughed as she flicked the leaf away.

She continued to pick out leaves from her hair as he did so with his own. He ran his fingers through his hair once more to find any more foliage and was pleased when there weren't any to be found. He turned his attention back to Coruwen as she finished her braids that came to rest on the crown of her head. Her eyes fell on him and she stood.

"I more than likely need to return to my aunt and uncle, they probably wondered where all I wandered off to." She said. The tone of her voice made his spirit's delight fall. Standing, he mutely offered her his arm to take. Coruwen let out a shy laugh as she slipped her hand onto the crook of his elbow.

"Coruwen," He started quietly as they climbed the steps up to her guardians' flet. "I forgot to mention this earlier, but I am deeply sorry for your loss."

The elleth shook her head, "Think nothing of it. I have heard those words more than I can count these days. It is not to say that I do not appreciate the condolence, but I have heard it so often that sometimes I find myself forgetting that some people even say it."

"Well, I hope you do not dwell on Haldir's death then."

She halted abruptly, dragging him with her. She looked up at him, timid love peeking beneath the beautiful sky blue of her eyes. Gingerly, she pressed her hand against his cheek and then leaned up on her tip toes, pressing a kiss against his cheek. She stepped back away from him with her cheeks turning a light pink.

"It is because of you that I shall not dwell on his death," Coruwen whispered. She disappeared up the steps leaving him to listen to the cries of his heart. Perhaps this was but a dream? No, it was most certainly not that, he knew that much. How could he think of such a thing that she would do? He smiled to himself as he started back down the steps, his blood finally seceding its desire-induced stirs. For once, it did not stir in his dreams, or in during the time he was awake.

* * *

_Please Review _


	19. Chapter 19

_**Dragon Scales**_

* * *

_Two Days Later… _

Coruwen leaned against the side of a tree with her gaze held on Ithil as the mare played with Asfaloth. Ithil was far shorter than the stallion and a tad heavier than him as well, yet it did not seem to stop her from running circle around him in play. It pleased her to see the forest returning to normal once more, even the people within were beginning to revert after the dead had been taken care of and properly dealt with.

She had returned the jeweled bracelet to Orophin for safe keeping, though it reminded both of them of Haldir despite the intentions being in good faith. Still, she saw the grief and agony in Orophin and Rumil though it had diluted down into supposed twinges of pain according to the younger brother. The heartache that troubled her had been lifted by returning to duties in the Houses of Healing and a few visits to Calenfaire and Glorfindel. She had told herself that she would no longer worry Glorfindel, seeing in him in a state of constant concern troubled her. She had been surprised at the reaction he had given her the other day when she had pinned him. He had stared at her – whether in shock or intrigue, she knew not. At first, she thought of it stupid to pin him in such an intimate way, but her body acted on its own when she gave it thought. And after he had stared up at her for a while, he then pinned her and she could have sworn that she had turned red because of it. She wondered how he found her at her weakest points, only to right the wrongs that life had given her.

An equine snort shattered her thoughts over to Ithil. The mare stood in front of her with bits of yellow and purple flowers hanging from her mouth. Coruwen swore that Ithil ate flowers just to irritate her sometimes. She ran her hand across Ithil's cheek and slipped into her mane where she pulled the course hair free of knots. Ithil swung her head back to give Coruwen a gentle nudge in the side as she unwound a tight knot.

"I know they hurt, Ithil," She soothed, running her free hand against Ithil's shoulder. She managed to pull the knot loose. "But, I will let you eat all of the elanor flowers you desire if you just let me pull this other one free." She tugged on a knot warranting a snort from the mare.

Coruwen caught Asfaloth out of the corner of her eye as he trotted up to her, curiously beginning to nudge her in the side as she tried to untangle her mare's hair. Coruwen glared at Asfaloth, keeping back the irritation that threatened to take a hold of her.

"Asfaloth, no," She scolded, giving his muzzle a soft push. The stallion huffed then gave her side another push. "Asfaloth!" She whirled around and Asfaloth teetered back on his hind legs, giving her an apprehensive look. Pushy horse, she thought as she rubbed the dun's neck. Ithil gave her a whinny when she backed away to return to her duties. Ithil took a step forward, giving her a nudge in her left arm and she hissed in pain. "Ithil, ouch!" She rubbed the sensitive scar on her arm, and found that Ithil was looking at her clearly apologetic for her mishap. She rolled up her sleeve to present the scar to Ithil as the mare ran her nose across Coruwen's shoulder.

"It came from a goblin, my moon," She murmured as the mare's muzzle hovered over the scars. The horse snorted, stepping away from her then tossing her head backward to her mistress. "Oh no, Ithil, I can't…" The mare stamped one hoof on the ground indignantly in protest. "Ithil, my arm won't allow me to get up onto your back from the ground."

The mare let out a sad whinny, hanging her head. Coruwen gilded towards her, taking the mare's face with two hands and pressing a kiss onto her snout. "Sweet Ithil, thank you…"

She turned and left the glade to return to the Houses of Healing where she took orders from the Chief Healer concerning several amounts of herbs and bandages that needed to be replaced. On a small table, she found a series of loose, uncoiled linen bandages that she started to roll and place back into a basket. She became dimly aware of the Chief Healer that was watching her closely from a distance as she worked.

"Lady Coruwen?" The Chief Healer asked. Coruwen halted her work to turn her attention to the elleth behind her. "Did something happen to your arm?" The elleth gestured to her left arm as her fingers shook violently. Coruwen couldn't tell the woman any other answer, the evidence was all too clear.

"I injured my arm many years ago, it never properly healed," Coruwen replied, touching the surface of her sleeve lightly. The Chief Healer narrowed her eyes as she stalked over to her side and observed the scar beneath her sleeve. As the healer flitted her fingers over the scar, Coruwen suppressed the urge to hiss as her skin became alit with angry, atrophied nerves. A curious, yet serious look spread across the Chief's face as she glanced up at Coruwen. "Goblin did it to me."

"I can see that," The elleth said formally. "Do you use your arm for anything besides small tasks?" Coruwen begrudgingly shook her head. "Well, you atrophied your arm because of it. However, if you use it for things such a lifting, or even climbing, it would regain its strength."

"Would things such as using a sword or knife work as well?"

The elleth gave a nod of her head, releasing Coruwen's arm. Silently, the elleth turned and left Coruwen to return to folding the bandages. It was no surprise to her that others were noticing the hitch in her arm. It always became prevalent when she had hit it on something or someone bumped into her accidently – though the latter she had learned to accept and hide. She placed the last bandage into the basket then checked on any other injured warriors who had returned from Helms Deep. One warrior in particular had been dancing on the edge of losing his leg these past few days because of a festered arrowhead in his leg. Coruwen knelt at the ellon's side, mutely inspecting the wound. One of the other healers managed to withdraw the arrowhead but still the wound was deeply infected. She replaced the herbs packed inside of the bandages before wrapping the wound tight.

Leaving the Houses of Healing, Coruwen found her mind's focus dancing elsewhere, the thought of somewhat fixing her arm brought a new light into her heart. She wandered up to the base of a tree, looking directly up into the swirling gold leaves that whipped around.

"Orophin!" She called up. In response, Rumil's head poked over the side of a branch then moved out of her line of sight as the two clambered down to see her. Orophin landed beside her giving her a curious look while Rumil sat perched on a branch above her.

"What is it you need, robin?" Orophin asked.

Coruwen smiled brightly, "I came to ask something of both you and Rumil." The ellyn tilted their heads to the side in intrigue much like birds. "I atrophied my left arm as of a small _accident_. I was wondering if you could help me regain the strength in it through the use of knives."

"That is rather brave of you, robin," Rumil noted. "Why the sudden change in heart?"

"The Chief Healer told me that there is hope of it becoming repaired. It also came to my attention that if I am to ride to war, I cannot let this scar rule over my life any longer. It has caused me too much pain and it holds more than its fair share of heartache. All I need is just a little time."

"I don't know…" Rumil said with a sly smile. "Phin, what do you think?"

"I think it's about time you remembered that which Haldir and I taught you." Orophin stated, taking her hand. "We would be more than happy to help you, robin."

Rumil leapt down from his branch, coming to land beside her. A teasing smirk came to his lips, "That is, if you can focus." Rumil jested. Coruwen released Orophin's hand to lightly smack her youngest uncle on the arm. Rumil chuckled as he snatched her hand before she could withdraw it.

~.~.~

Orophin watched Rumil and Coruwen as he corrected various little mistakes their robin was making. He knew little of her true family, but could have guessed that she had inherited the fairness of Lady Galadriel's line, yet cursed with poor combat ability. He remembered when she was but an elfling, who was too busy focusing on the little woodland creatures than archery or swordplay. Granted, he managed to teach her the skill of archery, but getting to that point in her life took tedious work. His brother took on teaching a bit too narrow-minded as memory served. He smiled in Coruwen's direction, thinking of the little elfling that had grown to become such a beautiful jewel.

"Ah! This is hopeless!" Coruwen's shout shattered his reverie. One of her long knives lay in the grass as she clutched her left hand with her right. He flew over to her side, spreading her hand flat as it tried to curl back into a fist reflexively. "It suddenly started shaking… I suppose this is the long while that the healer mentioned."

"I would not push yourself, robin." Orophin soothed, pressing his thumb into the middle of her hand. "This is normal." Coruwen slid her hand free of his, her eyes watching the strange oddity of her hand's reaction. "In time, it will heal."

"Yes," She whispered, nodding. "Yes it will. Though not fast enough if battle were to ensue."

"No, but you will just have to work around that. Do not push yourself unless you feel the need, robin." Behind him, he heard Gilion call for he and Rumil. "Rumil, he-," His brother nodded as he started toward the sound of the Chief Marchwarden's voice. He looked to Coruwen before departing, giving her a soft smile. "Remember what I told you, robin." He pressed a light kiss onto her forehead before running to join Rumil.

~.~.~

_Four Days Later… _

The sky swirled angrily with dark, grey clouds yet no rain came. Coruwen figured the world was angered by some strange event; perhaps the wars in the South were piquing and this was the looming reminder. She leaned on her balcony's rail, eyes searching the skies thoroughly for sights of messenger hawks or even little birds. She drummed her fingers on the rail when nothing came to her attention, and turned around to leave her room, and upon opening her door, she found Himon standing outside of her door with his younger brother behind him.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure of having both the sons of Calendir here before me?" Coruwen asked in mock interest. A muffled a chuckle was heard behind Himon, yet the older ellon remained stone-faced. It had been a long time since she had looked upon Himon with his face being set so. During his time with her, he had lightened up in his temperamental behavior and became delightful to be around. She dropped the jesting attitude, "What is it you need of me, general?"

"Follow," Himon instructed tersely. He turned on his heel, walking down the long hall as she picked up her skirts to join Calenfaire's side. She took a glance up at him, finding him to be focused entirely on his brother's long strides. "There has been a sighting of some sort of bird hovering over the entrance to Caras Galadhon."

"You sought me out because of a bird?" She inquired. Himon cast a dark look over his shoulder, causing her to shrug. "What is odd about it?"

"It flies like no bird any of the Marchwardens have seen before." Himon stated.

"And it isn't any type of bird Himon and I have seen either." Calenfaire interjected. Coruwen looked to the sky, her heart seeming to rise up into the sky with the mention of this _bird_.

They hurried to the edge of Caras Galadhon where many elves stood with their gazes transfixed upon the sky. Coruwen stepped into the clearing as her eyes spotted the circling creature overhead. It was white, though easily could be mistaken as a wisp of cloud. It was circling like a hawk, the wind clearly carrying it rather than it being subjected to the wind's control. It was big enough to be a hawk, but no hawk on this earth was white. When the overcast sky peeled away for a moment, a flash of gold caught her eye.

"It is a dragon," She stated at last, her heart jolting at the sight of a white dragon. The elves within the clearing looked at her dumb stricken. "Though it's too far away to hear any calls. If we could get it to land then we could get it to speak." She looked at Gilion, who still had his gaze on the dragon. "Gilion," His attention snapped down to meet her gaze. "See if you can get that dragon down."

The Chief Marchwarden dipped his head to her and leapt into a nearby tree. Her mind reeled at the thought of this dragon being the one she had seen in her vision. No other dragon was white, much less gold. It appeared to her that it was small, or perhaps she was too far away to see the dragon. She watched the dragon shift its wings and turn as it barely nicked the trees in the distance.

"Are there dragons that small in the world?" Calenfaire asked quietly. Coruwen turned to look at him, giving him a stubborn shake of her head. "I was under the assumption that baby dragons couldn't be white."

"No, fire-drakes cannot be white," Coruwen corrected as she passed him to return back into the heart of Caras Galadhon. "Come and find me when Gilion has captured the dragon. I want to see it."

"Yes, my lady," Himon replied swiftly. Coruwen could feel the glare that Calenfaire was sending at Himon in an instant. She returned to the base of her guardians' flet to wait for Gilion, knowing that the Chief was going to have a rough time catching a dragon. She wrapped her hand around her arm, remembering the little tricks that the Chief Healer had taught her to repair some of the damage on her arm. She knelt and found a fallen twig to balance in her left hand. It wasn't much – in fact it barely caused the weight to shift. She dropped the stick, her fingers skimming across the surface of the grass for signs of something heavier.

"_What_ are you doing?" A voice asked behind her. She yelped in surprise, shooting up with shoulders set and body rigid. Glorfindel stood at the base of the stairs, curiously looking at her. Her body relaxed, yet her pulsed raced, more than likely at the fact that he was around mixed with her fright. "I did not mean to frighten you, my dear."

"I barely heard you," She said gently. He approached her, a sly smirk beginning to creep up onto his face. "I am waiting for Gilion to fetch the dragon that was seen overhead."

Glorfindel hummed, "A dragon? That _is_ interesting…" He looked down at her once more. "But what were you doing?"

In spite of the brooding embarrassment that desired to spread across her face, she instead smiled mischievously. "Wouldn't you like know?" She jested. He cocked an eyebrow and her smile only grew wider. There – in that moment – a little part of her laughed in delight at seeing the clear shocked expression on his face.

"You're simply tempting me, aren't you? Do you want me to chase after you?" His tone dropped to one of seriousness for a moment. She tried to hide her smile, but she couldn't help the few laughs that escaped her.

"No, wherever did you get that idea?" She kept her gaze held with his as she started to slip away from his side. His eyes flicked down as she knocked her heel against the side of a tree root. He started towards her and she darted around the bole of the tree, trying to hide the happiness that welled up inside of her. She started to turn in a slow circle, looking for him but was caught by the waist and pulled back into him.

"Not one of your better plans, dear," Glorfindel whispered in her ear. She could not deny the feeling of dizziness and racing pulse that she gained when he held her. "But tell me, what were you doing out here?"

Coruwen leaned back, resting her hands on his forearm. "I was looking for something to test my arm with seeing as I have taken up trying to fix it." His fingers graced her left arm causing her skin to become pricked as her nerves reacted negatively to the simple touch. "My uncles have been helping me as of late and though it has only been a few days, I have seemed to stop having such… Negative reactions to others touching my arm."

She felt his hand twin with hers for a moment before she was turned by him so she faced him. The turn forced her arm over her head, yet it gave little resistance as she refused to let her body overreact. Glorfindel smiled once again, giving her hand a squeeze.

"And overtime, it will heal," He said softly, feathering a kiss onto her hand. Her heart fluttered in her chest as a smile touched her face. "How long do you suppose it will take the Chief to snag a dragon?"

"Depends, really," She replied. "Why do you ask?"

The flicker of mischief passed in his eyes yet his face remained neutral. "Can I not be curious?" His tone suggested that he was trying to bait her into something. And she was falling for his game. She slipped her hand from his to cross her arms over her chest, her face lack of humor.

"What are you inferring to, Glorfindel?"

He smirked, "Come with me?"

"Why should I?"

"Oh, I have taught you well, my dear. If would simply follow me, I would show you what you get." He offered her his hand and she hesitantly placed her fingertips on his palm. Slowly, his hand turned and took her hand. He led her to a section of forest on the edge of Caras Galadhon to a point that sat just below the great mallorn trees near the Celebrant.

"In all my years living here, never before have I found this space before," She whispered, looking up into the trees and sky. Her eyes flicked over to Glorfindel, his eyes looking up into the sky as well with his body seeming far more relaxed in this space than before. "This feels like home to, does it not?"

"Yes, it does. I have been missing it as of late."

She studied his face for a moment longer, the flashes of longing and memory passing in his eyes as well as making the subtle playfulness die in his voice. She leaned closer to him, taking his other hand in her own. Glorfindel looked down at her, mildly surprised at the gesture, yet gripped her hand tightly.

"If you wish to return home, then return. I have no plans on leaving any time soon," She whispered. The lord smiled and she gave him a questionable look. "Glorfindel, do you believe I am not serious?"

"No, my dear, I understand where you are coming from. But, in a way, I cannot leave just yet; not until something has been made clear to me."

"And that would be… what?"

A knowing smile touched his face and her heart jumped to her throat. She could not seem to conjure words with such a look – it made her heart jump and flip in ways that had not graced her for nearly sixty years. She felt his hand grace her jaw lightly.

"Even I have my secrets, my dear."

She narrowed her eyes up at him, gently taking her hand and guiding it up to his to snag his hand. "Well… That makes finding just a bit more difficult, does it not?"

"All the more to taunt you with."

Coruwen scoffed, "You never take any problem with any sort of seriousness. I have told you dozens of my secrets, yet you have not told one of yours – despite the fact you promised to tell me one."

Glorfindel's eyes widened as she stood inches from him, her eyes raised to his face, taking the surprise that she caused. His eyes had lightened a great deal because of it – the eyes that she had come to love so much, the eyes that contrasted his bright gold hair, the eyes of the lord that had been with her through so many trials.

"I will tell you one, my dear," He said finally. Coruwen tipped her head to the side in curiosity as his attention became distant. His voice became quiet as he let out a small, breathy laugh. "I… I care for a-."

A rustling of bushes made him stop and Coruwen anticipation fell like a stone. She slid her hands back to her sides as Rumil appeared from the bushes. She turned, giving her uncle a look of question.

"We have captured the dragon," Rumil stated. Coruwen gave him nod to continue. "It is asking for you, robin."

Her heart stopped as the words drifted into the babble of the river. "_Asking?" _She inquired breathlessly. "Are you positive?"

"Dead," Rumil replied flatly. "We need to move – Gilion can't hold that thing forever."

~.~.~

Coruwen slipped in between the elves that crowded around a silver dais. Silver chains stuck out in odd directions as they coiled around a small, lean body with wings flapping to pull itself into the air. Rumil had been correct; the chains weren't enough to hold the fierce animal that it controlled. The dragon was white with gold accents and bright teal eyes that stared up at her in greeting. It landed in a small bunny hop, wings tucking at its sides as it sat down in a way that was identical to a dog.

"Do you speak Common Tongue, little one?" She asked, stooping to the baby's level. The dragonling let out a serpentine purr as it took a step near her but howled in shock when Gilion jerked it back. "Gilion, release the dragon!"

Gilion's eyes went wide, "Lady Coruwen, it took me nearly half a candle mark to catch this creature. I am not going to freely release it!" The Chief returned.

"Gilion… It was not a suggestion," Coruwen scolded, stroking the dragon's head. "Release it. Now." She turned her gaze back to the white dragon. "Tell me your name, little one, if you can manage."

"Elathan," The baby replied, in a voice that was enunciated. "I am Elathan, son of Freya, first of his name and Prince of the Grey Mountains."

The crowd gasped, taking a step back. Coruwen smiled at Elathan, and then heard the click of the chains that bound the little creature. Though not so little, she noted. He was far bigger than the large tom cats that she had seen in her life and he was long like his father. He glittered in the sun like a great opal as he moved around her to stand directly on the dais.

"Tell me, little prince, why have you come so far from home?"

Elathan straightened his posture, letting out a hum. "May we find a better place to speak, Lady Dragon? Where there aren't as many ears." The crowd that had formed mutely left their presence aside from Glorfindel, Gilion, and her uncles. "There, I give your kindred credit; at least they know how to take a hint." Clearing his throat, Elathan started. "I have come bearing news of the east. The Lonely Mountain is besieged, Dale is taken, and Esgaroth lay in shambles. All of these events have occurred because of Easterlings – Erebor calls for aid in this time of dire need."

Coruwen stubbornly shook her head. "I… But how? That is not possible! Dain would not have allowed such a thing!"

"True," Elathan said in thought. "But I have other news that claims that the Black Easterling and a second Nazgûl have taken flight around the spire of The Lonely Mountain. They are strong, the Nazgûl, and without a doubt able to conjure enough forces to cripple even the strongest of kingdoms."

"I… I do not understand… I know there is no other way, but how am I – a single person in this world – supposed to fend off an army that is close to breeching the walls of Erebor?"

"Call them."

Conviction stopped the reckless words from spouting forth. She could do it, she could call them, and she could save the city - the city of the lost King under the Mountain. She touched the sapphire necklace at her throat, silently thinking of what she must do.

"I will ride to the Lonely Mountain."

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**Big things happening this run, folks, big things... Be Prepared! **

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Answers:

Seriya: I'm sorry I made you almost cry... *Pats back* It'll be ok, we are pretty much done with all of the sadness. And thank you for the compliment, dear! Hearing from you is always a joy!

Glorelwen: I'm still voting for rock, paper, scissors. Suspense is always the best in my opinion, keeps one on their toes!

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**Please Review! **


	20. Chapter 20

_A/N: Oh, what I am doing up here? Well, guys, this is a turning point.. Hope you like it, and I always hope to hear from you all! :) _

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_**The Heart of a Dragon**_

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"Robin, you are going alone?!" Rumil asked, outraged as she descended the steps of the flet. She tightened her hands into fists at her sides as she picked up her pace, but hastily, Rumil stepped in front of her and she bumped into his chest. She hardly had time for this! She had made up her mind – she wasn't going to allow the people she loved to become hurt. Haldir falling in battle was enough for her; she couldn't risk the lives of Calenfaire, her uncles, Glorfindel, or anyone any longer. She dipped underneath Rumil's arm and started off again. "Coruwen! Stop!" His hand wrapped around her arm, pulling her back.

"Rumil, let me go!" She shouted in protest, digging her nails into his wrist.

"And I will not let my niece go running off like a reckless fool!"

Coruwen tore away from him, glaring up at him. "I swore to a council that I would come to Erebor's aid should they need it. Low and Behold, they need it and nothing you say will change my mind."

"At least let us come with you."

"No! Too many people have died-,"

Orophin poked his head around the corner, gently intervening. "And many more will die, robin. If someone does not go with you, how will we know if you perish?"

"I will return," Coruwen stated firmly. "That much I will promise you." She gave them both reprimanding looks before walking off in the direction of her guardians' flet.

Climbing the steps, she felt a wave of worry overcome her. The fear of riding into war was clouding her thoughts. She reached the main entryway as her knees buckled as her mind reeled, the strong possibility of death close to her, yet it felt correct to her that she was riding to defend that which she loved. She braced herself against the smooth bark of the tree with blood pounding in her ears. She thought that if she put up a front that did not display her worry, doubt, and fear; others would not wish to follow her and therefore, dance right into death's arms. Her worst fear was death; it took too much and desired to take her as well. She picked herself up and started back to her room to prepare to leave.

She left her room clad in traveling clothes with Freya's scale around her neck and her bag looped around one arm, she slid out of her room and down the steps in the hopes of avoiding her aunt and uncle entirely.

Though that was not the case.

Her aunt appeared around the corner and her gaze fell directly on her without hesitation. Her body froze, her boots skidding on the ground that could have wakened any elf nearby. She cast her gaze instantly downward, but above her, she could hear the slight swish of her aunt's skirts as she drew near.

"Where are you going in such a hurry, my little bird?" Galadriel asked, drawing Coruwen's gaze slightly up. She was not afraid of speaking her mind to her aunt, she knew that Galadriel understood the troubles that were occurring and her aunt was also not the one to worry terribly about her. Galadriel cupped her cheek, drawing their gazes to meet. "Coruwen, wherever are you going?"

"Erebor has been besieged. I ride to save her and her people," Coruwen said quietly as to not draw attention from her uncle, who may or may not have been nearby. Curiosity graced her aunt's features. "And, despite the arguments given, I plan to leave alone."

"Death haunts you, my bird," Her aunt ran her fingers across her hairline, slightly dispelling the tension growing in Coruwen's heart. "You fear it will take the people you love."

"I do, and I know it seems foolish but… I do not wish to burden others with my well being…"

Galadriel's eyes shut for a moment, her lips a thin line, yet Coruwen could feel the concern that her aunt possessed radiating from her.

"Araniel, you are your father's daughter… I wish to listen to me for a moment, if you believe that running off when others do not wish it of you is of good conscious, then you may do it freely. But, the truth of the matter is that there is not one person that you know that does not think of you. I know for a fact that your uncle would not be pleased with you running off without someone at your side."

"Auntie, I… I just do not wish for people to die needlessly."

"And that only happens when they do not have a person to die for." Her aunt's fingers hovered over Nenya, the small ring glittering in the pale lantern light. "Your father did not die needlessly; he died fighting for your mother and for Beren and for all of the people that did not deserve to be held under the rule of Melkor. There are those who die needlessly, and there are those who do not. I shall not try to sway your thoughts; just remember that no matter what you do; people will always worry."

Coruwen embraced her aunt tightly as her heart shuddered in her chest. The feeling of dread chilled her blood, but not as much as the grief that rolled in her chest as she descended the steps to find Ithil. She was terribly distracted by the emotions that diverted her attention from the task at hand. Her hands gripped the cloth at her hip in an attempt to soothe her emotion. The dark grey cloth in her hands slid free when she heard the sound of someone behind her. She whirled around, looking back to see Glorfindel standing nearby, watching her with a great deal of caution.

Sighing, she tugged on the sleeve of her overcoat. "Glorfindel, do not try and stop me, there is nothing you can say that will change my mind…" She said sharply. She turned away, trying to forget that he was there – creating a greater distraction for her than her heart or anything that was occurring.

"I am going with you," Glorfindel started. "What you did said was reckless. Do you think that people are going to idly let you leave to a besieged mountain?" His footsteps drew near and with it, her pulse jumped to life.

"Glorfindel, no, you could die," Coruwen reiterated, turning her head to look at him as he approached her side. For the life of her, she could not lose him. Her heart had come to love him, and perhaps, her mind had made up its decision as well. For what felt for the longest time, she had admired him from afar. She couldn't bear the heartache if she were to lose him to a thrall of war. "Return home, where you said you wished to go. You will be safer there."

"Coruwen, do you honestly think that I will sit by and let you run into the face of a shadow?"

"Yes, I do!" She clutched her sides, shaking her head. "I have seen death, I have seen the injured, the destroyed, the families crumbled down into nothing. I-I am but one life in this world."

"And you are a life that many care for, my dear." Her gaze fell to the floor, unable to look at him as he spoke. "I came here to aid you, and aid you I shall."

"No! For Valar sake, you could get killed and what then?"

"I do not care if I perish, it would have been to protect you." His hand slid under her chin, drawing her eyes to meet the beautiful deep blue that he possessed. Her heart leapt in her chest, doing flips over and over as it screamed for him. Her mind ordered her limbs to move, to push him away, but she couldn't. His voice dropped. "Is there anything that could change your mind, stubborn one?"

Yes, there was, but he would not agree to it. That time, when her mind screamed at her limbs to move, she gently pushed him away – and with his touch he took the fire that dashed across her skin. She hated pushing him away, really she did.

"No, there is nothing that can sway me," She whispered.

Her voice shocked herself, she sounded so obstinate, so furiously stubborn because she did not wish for anyone to become injured. She was only trying to save her people, what harm is in that! Coruwen forced the urge to scream down, the inability to understand why he was standing in her way becoming unbearable. She ran a hand through her hair. Coruwen started toward the glade where Ithil typically was, but a hand snapped to hers, dragging her back. She was swiftly turned by her shoulders to directly face Glorfindel, who had agitation brewing in his eyes. She was so close to him it felt as though they shared the same lungs, even the same heartbeat.

"No words can sway you?" She shook her head. His voice dropped to an almost inaudible whisper and touched with a gentleness that intrigued her. "What would you say if I kissed you?"

A gasp escaped her, surprise spreading across her features. Her heart screamed its answer, yes; yes she wanted him to kiss her so dearly. Her mind sated the weakening emotions and emboldened her to smile mischievously up at him. "Perhaps you should try and see what happens."

And he struck so quick that her mind reeled; only coming to when his hands gripped her wrist and waist. His hand did not hesitate to twin their fingers together while the other slid up to cup the back of her head to press his lips firmly against hers. Her body loosened its tight grip on her muscles as she relaxed into his touch allowing her eyes close.

His lips claimed hers, and she refused to let him claim her entirely. She returned his kiss with equal fervor as her hand slid up his chest to feel the strong, taut muscles that were obscured by his doublet and up into his golden hair. The hand around her waist pulled her closer against him and a small squeak escaped her when she was pulled flush up against his strong frame. The love and passion that danced in her blood awoke in her mind memories of being aware of someone nearby, someone who loved her. It awoke old, dormant awareness's that responded to Glorfindel.

Though it was hardly a gentle first kiss, her heart was left pounding, wishing for it have lasted longer, and her mind left playing catch up. He broke away from her, looking into her eyes deeply. His hand slid from around her waist to come and trace her lips before sliding back into her hair. A sweet smile touched her face as her heart finally ceased its desirous cries. Her lungs had not felt so empty in long time, yet she managed to let out a few soft laughs. He smiled down at her, a strange mix of confidence and love glittering in his eyes.

"What say you now?" He whispered, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb. She balanced on her tip toes to kiss his cheek. The peace that filled her being was something she greeted as a long lost friend. She missed it dearly, for he had been holding it all this time.

"Yes, all of you, come with me," She answered. He wrapped his arms around her waist, giving her a tight squeeze. She giggled, "You never did tell me what your secret was, silly."

Glorfindel kissed her forehead. "I was about to tell you that I had fallen for the beautiful elleth, but seeing as it has all ready come into the open… I suppose it is no longer a secret."

"I see now, just be careful who you speak to." He cocked his head to the side eliciting another giggle from her. She could not help it; such emotions that he had dug up desired to be let free from their confines within her lungs. "My uncle is quite protective…"

"Ah, well, I will be ever so careful, dear." He released her from his arms, and she felt her body grow limp for a moment. There was no need to retreat as there might have been earlier on in the past few months. Granted, the kiss was induced by desperation and passion, but it reminded her of many, many long and forgotten things. And for once, there was silence in her heart and mind as they were at peace. They had come to an agreement, at long last. "Coruwen?"

Her attention snapped up from her love-induced stupor. A soft smile touched his face for a moment as he passed her. "Find Asfaloth and Ithil, I will be back."

Coruwen nodded as she set out for Ithil and Asfaloth to prepare them for the long ride to the Lonely Mountain. The dun mare came trotting up to her with Asfaloth not too far behind, both clearly curious about her.

"Ithil, Asfaloth, follow me," She instructed, patting her hip for them to follow. The horses snorted then followed after the elleth that piqued their attention. Coruwen saddled Ithil, strapping her bag to the back of Ithil's saddle and the mare snorted, raking the ground with one hoof in anxiety. Coruwen wondered if Ithil could feel her happiness, or perhaps the tension that seemed to accumulate in the air. Upon tightening the last strap around Ithil's bridle, Coruwen turned to fetch Asfaloth but found herself staring up at Calenfaire's horse, Talt – meaning his master wasn't too far away. She ran a hand across Talt's roan coat as she slinked out of the stables in search of Calenfaire.

Coruwen found Calenfaire leaning against the stable entryway with his arms folded across his chest and head hung low in feigned rest. Walking up to him, his blue eyes opened to focus on her, but she smiled and they became wide with intrigue.

"Come with me, little one," She stated gently. Calenfaire blinked in shock, clearly caught blind by the statement. "You and a few others are riding with me."

"But I thought that you did not wish for anyone to come with you…" Calenfaire whispered, shaking his head. "Fine, I will not argue your jurisdiction, my lady."

He reached forward taking her hand. He had changed so much, she thought. He had changed from a timid little elfling to a young ellon, the one who had helped her free the Company, the one who had befriended her in the Halls when she was trapped. He had changed so much; she swore that she was still not looking at her Calenfaire from sixty years ago. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze as he slipped off in the direction of the outpost – most likely in search of his brother.

How people could change slightly dumbfounded her still. She thought of Aragorn, who – when she had last seen him – was starting to take the shape of a budding king. She tapped her fingertips to her thumb – she had changed as well. Against her side, a snout bumped her and graced her ear, causing her to yelp. Looking up, she saw Asfaloth.

"Oh, now you come out, silly horse," She laughed, patting his snout. She started sifting through the various bits of tack for Asfaloth's, only to find his bridle. She observed the bridle closely, finding little dove feathers tied to reins with the beginnings of the feathers held to the leather by silver beads. Ithil nudged Coruwen's hip to help her regain focus. "Sorry Ithil." She dug out Asfaloth's saddle from the mess of leathers.

"Robin," Orophin's voice halted her work as she tied the various straps on Asfaloth's saddle. "Your aunt has asked it of Rumil and I to accompany you to Erebor."

She poked her head over the stallion's side, giving him a soft smile. "Good, we will be leaving in a short while once everyone is ready." She answered, removing Asfaloth's mane from beneath the saddle. Orophin's eyes became curious as she passed him with the horses following her. "Have I done something?"

Orophin shook his head, "No, you simply seem… Happy, my robin," He commented thoughtfully. She tossed a pleased glance over her shoulder at him. She felt giddy, a pleasing mix of light heartedness and happiness that swelled her heart. It seemed as though nothing could stop the feelings in her blood to be banked. She looped Ithil's reins around her hand as she walked away from her uncle, her mind thinking clearly for a moment. Once arriving in Erebor, what would she do? How many had fallen? How many had survived, and how many had been taken by the Easterlings? These thoughts dampened her delightful spirits as her concern rose once more. Her heart shuddered as her thoughts took a darker turn, but she shook it away, she was too happy right now – she would wait until she arrived in Erebor to take on the bigger threat.

"I see you found it," Glorfindel's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She turned and found that he changed from his typical attire into armor of glittering silver with flashes of dark blue cloth covering the links in the chains. She leaned into Ithil, gripping the leather tightly in her hands as he approached. "What?"

"N-Nothing," She murmured, regaining control of herself. "Am I under the impression that you had this," She poked his armored shoulder, the cool of the steel biting her finger, "All this time?"

He poked her back and she squeaked, to which he raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I did, dear."

"And why did you never wear it before?"

He shifted the sword at his hip a bit in slight nervousness. She took his hand intertwining their fingers together despite the fact his gloves hid the warmth of his skin from her. He glanced down at her then back around the area before kissing her lightly on the forehead and then on her lips. It was so fleeting that she barely had a chance to respond to it.

"That aside," Coruwen whispered. "Why have you not worn this before…? I like it."

He moved his shoulders, bringing to her ears the pleasant sound of chainmail links moving together. "Not exactly something you wear when trying to meet up with the Dragon Queen." He tightened the strap on one gauntlet, the metal catching the glimmer of the sun. And as it faded, Coruwen saw the outlines of the Imladris' insignia engraved into the metal. "Dear, you are staring."

"I know, I have not seen such armor before, that is all," She whispered wistfully. Coruwen straightened, casting the distraction away as she began to fiddle with Ithil's mane. "You know, my uncle Orophin, caught my happiness rather quickly. I was honestly trying to hide it…"

"Well, he knows how you function – it only makes sense for him to understand his niece better than others." He took her hand, giving it a squeeze. "I noticed something funny earlier."

She looked up at him as he stared out into the open glade. His gold hair was braided back into the fashion of the warriors of their people, yet as she stared at the mixtures of blonde and red, she found that he had skipped a section of the braid making it appear off. She touched the braid lightly, causing him to flinch in surprise.

"And what would that be?" Her fingers smoothly unwound the braid, finding whatever he found intriguing to pique her interest as well. She found it hard to fix when he was so much taller than she and she sunk back on her heels, staring up at him. "Did I ever mention that it makes it hard for me to do things when you are taller than I?"

He chuckled, and walked over to a log where it allowed her to fix the warrior braid as he continued, "I took notice of the fact that your uncles, adopted and by blood, have given you pet names involving birds. Why such names as Robin and Nightingale?"

"I used to sing when I was an elfling. Haldir's brothers called me robin because of it, while Uncle Celeborn and Haldir called me nightingale. I have not sung in ages, if you can believe it," She explained, finishing the braid. He looked up at her, giving her a concerned look. She knew the words that he desired to speak; he wondered why she did not sing anymore. Shaking her head, she kissed his forehead swiftly as the sounds of Himon and Calenfaire's bickering rose to her ears. "Think nothing of it, Glorfindel." She whispered in his ear when she caught sight of Orophin and Rumil.

Calenfaire flashed a smile at her when she met his gaze. "We are under your order, my lady," He stated. Coruwen counted the men with her – the brothers, her uncles, Glorfindel, and Gilion. Her eyes hesitated when she saw Gilion.

"Gilion?" Coruwen inquired, greatly shocked by the sight of the Chief Marchwarden.

"I have been ordered to follow you to the Lonely Mountain, Lady Coruwen. By order of the Lord and Lady," Gilion affirmed with a curt nod. She bowed her head in return to him. Grabbing Ithil's reins, she vaulted onto the mare's back and high above she heard a squawk. Above the company, Elathan soared in preparation to guide them to the swiftest path.

"Elathan!" She called up. The baby dragon dove, coming to land on her arm with wings beginning to catch the wind once more. She ran her finger underneath his chin with a soft smile, "Lead on, little opal."

"As you wish, lady elf," Elathan replied with a nod. He rose into the air, crying out for the elves below when he reached the tops of the trees. Coruwen inclined her head to the dragon as he hovered high above and gave another cry. The group mounted their horses, using the dragon as a guide.

~.~.~

The group halted at the edge of Mirkwood, the sounds of metal meeting metal grating on their ears. Elathan dove with the sudden group's halt, landing on Coruwen's shoulder to look deeper into the dark forest. Coruwen glanced back at Himon, giving him a fretful look. The general reined his horse closer to the mouth of the path.

"Calenfaire, take up the end of the group. I will take the lead," Himon ordered. He turned to Coruwen, "Can the little one hide?"

Coruwen looked down at Elathan and then flipped open the flap of her saddlebag, motioning him inside with the hopes of it obscuring him enough from sight. Elathan complained with a chirp of annoyance when she shut the lid of her bag though it could not be helped. Ithil's ears flicked to the churning noises within the forest as they started along the path at a slow trot. Her heart began to pound as the sounds of battle drew near mingled with the screeches of orcs and hisses of spiders. Her blood froze when from the shadows came a hissing spider, fangs dripping with venom and body marred with the lashes of swords. Himon's horse rose up on its hind legs as his sword dug onto the spider's abdomen, only stunning it. An arrow whistled through the air and met its mark into one of the spider's many eyes causing it to hiss and rear back, giving Himon a chance to swing again to knock the spider aside as well as kill it.

"Damn," Himon hissed, sheathing his sword. Coruwen felt Elathan stir against her low back when the sound of orc rambling reached them. The horses started off into a gallop like thunder over the plain, only stopping when they reached Thranduil's halls.

The great iron wrought door swung open revealing Tauriel struggling to keep up with Thranduil. Much further behind was a small group of healers with Moriel and Naruhel being amongst them.

"Coruwen," Thranduil stated, reaching out to help her down from Ithil. She took his hand, slipping heavily onto the ground. Her world spun for a brief moment as she found her body letting the blood return to her legs. "Where are you-?" His eyes wandered away from hers as Elathan poked his head out of her knapsack. "What is that?"

"Well, I could ask you the same," Elathan quipped and Coruwen whirled around, giving him a scolding look. The baby shrunk back in an instant then returned to his hiding place in her bag.

"Forgive him, he has no sense of right or wrong," She apologized. Thranduil smirked, shaking his head and then it fell. "I was not expecting you to be here when I arrived."

Thranduil nodded tightly, his gaze narrowing. "I actually knew of your coming, or at least expected it." Coruwen tilted her head to the side. With a whistle, Thranduil raised his forearm up to catch a black and ivory baby dragon. Her heart jolted at the sight of the baby. "This is Nerthus, and she alerted me to your coming. Time is short, and I am sending Tauriel and Naruhel with you."

Coruwen sighed inwardly, deeply regretting her next sentences. It was for the best, she told herself. Turning, she looked to Himon and Calenfaire, the two speaking to each other with their eyes. The concern and remorse building in her chest was enough to choke a fully grown dragon at this point as she caught Calenfaire's gaze. He paused, holding up a hand to his brother.

"Calenfaire, I need you to remain here with Thranduil," She stated firmly, trying to keep her voice from cracking. He blinked in shock before his features twisted into a mixture of confusion and blasphemy. "I know it seems unfair, but… But listen to me-," A loud roar erupted through the air causing her to flinch. "- I need someone to be here should the battle here take a turn for the worst."

"Please tell you are kidding?" The young ellon said bitterly, his eyes darkening. Coruwen knew that tone, that horrible tone when he didn't approve of something. "You expect me to stay here?"

"Yes, I do," Coruwen replied, keeping her voice firm. "You will be far safer here."

"But I-," Calenfaire stopped as his brother's hand clasped his shoulder. "Fine… I will stay if that is what you ask."

Her heart could not bear to see him defeated in such a terrible way. However, Calenfaire was young, inexperienced with the ways of true war. This simply was not the safest place for him, she told herself as she mounted onto Ithil's back. Her mind knew that many were going to fall, many would be broken and injured, and even children would be to the blade if not saved.

The clamor of orcs drew near with the bushes and trees screaming out in pain as some fell or were trampled. Ithil snorted, tossing back her head in worry when the noises drew closer. Quickly, the group leapt of the clearing before Thranduil's halls, making their way towards the Desolation of Smaug. Looking down, Coruwen noted that the ground was heavily trodden on by horses and footmen, the earth was churned in such a way that the blackened pitch like dirt was beginning to return. Behind her, Elathan stirred with a yelp as he flew free of her pack and into the air, hovering with his sister that had followed them.

Tauriel rode beside Himon as he stood on a high slope. Coruwen felt her heart sink when a loud roar burst through the air above them. Soaring above was a Nazgûl upon a fell beast. The Nazgûl on the beast was scanning the land below as his beast guided him through the winds.

"I see we are not alone," Himon said, turning his horse around. "The Easterlings burned Esgaroth and they have garrisoned Dale. The only remaining city is Erebor, and it appears to be heavily surrounded by Easterling encampments."

Coruwen grimaced, silently thinking to herself on a way to get to Erebor without having to kill an army to just to get to the main gates. Elathan chirped above her and drew her attention.

"There is a way that is obscured by the East men – it is by an old watchtower." Elathan stated. Coruwen looked up at the baby, knowing of that old tower. Yes, she knew that tower and inwardly hated it. Riding up to the slope, she was able to get a better understanding of the area around them. Behind her, she heard two other horses climb the hill.

"Old watchtower?" Orophin's voice asked in a low tone. He sounded skeptical about Ravenhill to her. It took every bit of her being to keep herself from stating there was another way – when it truth there wasn't. It was fight or sneak. "Robin, I think I see what the dragon is seeing."

"As do I," Glorfindel agreed. She could see him out of the corner of her eye, he was focusing his attention on the armies that swarmed near the skirt of the mountain. "The armies are more than likely heavily armed, and we could not fight through that many Easterlings. They would catch us with their spears if given the chance."

Coruwen kept silent as her mind processed the words of the people around her. As her eyes took in the banners of red and black as they rose and fell like waves beneath silver spires, she could not help but feel so small in this war. The Easterlings had accumulated two Nazgûl, more than eight thousands spears, and had taken down two cities. Yet in the ashes of Esgaroth, her eyes spied soot covered spears mingled with glowing embers.

"Elathan, take us to Ravenhill," She ordered, turning Ithil around to guide her down the hill. The white dragon nodded, arching his back as the wind carried him along southeastern side of the army. As night fell, Elathan switched places with his sister so that they would not be spotted. They halted at the edge of Ravenhill, the old watchtower no longer in use and falling to pieces. Soon they would need to move once more as the lanterns of the East men dwindled.

"This is what has been occurring out here?" Tauriel asked, walking up to Coruwen. "A city has been taken as well as razed to the ground?"

Coruwen shook her head, still unable to the take in the fact that Brand's cities had been taken. She glanced over at Tauriel, a fellow guard that was under Himon's jurisdiction. Had one not known Tauriel and Naruhel, they could have easily been mistaken for sisters. Their hair was the same along with their eyes, but Tauriel held herself differently and she was not as silent as Naruhel was.

"Cities can be rebuilt as well as their resources, but knowing the Easterlings, the have come for blood," Coruwen stated flatly, leaning against the old stone hedge with her arms crossed over her chest. "The only objective we have is to make it to Erebor, which is not too far away on foot."

"The horses will not be able to cross?" Himon's voice piped from the back of the watchtower.

Coruwen shook her head, "No, I simply remember it taking about two candle mark's time to reach the gates on foot… You have to remember I was not accompanied by a horse last time I set foot on this section of land."

"Then, in theory, it should go faster on horseback," Tauriel muttered and Coruwen gave her a stiff nod.

As the last light in the camps nearest the base died, Coruwen whistled for Ithil. "We need to move now that they are asleep."

The others nodded and started to mount up after their brief stop at the tower. Looking out, Coruwen could see the embers of the burnt city of Esgaroth still emitting soft amber light into the dim world. The sound of horse hooves at her back alerted her to her surroundings once more. She counted the others as they rode up the slope in pairs.

"Why do you worry so?" Naruhel asked beside her. Coruwen nearly jumped at the appearance of the other elleth. Naruhel's brown eyes watched her intently as their horses followed the others up the slope. "Is it the fact you have had to come here twice during a war time?"

Coruwen sighed, "Nay, it is not. It is the fact that our kinsmen might perish is this battle," Her voice quivered as well as her heart. She was fine not too long ago and now she was so torn up in worry that she could hardly stand it. "It is death that has stricken me, my friend. I fear that coming here will only bring it closer."

"You always have Freya," Naruhel noted thoughtfully.

She could not help but nod. Yes, she had the queen – the queen that would come no matter the cost and she would come to Freya if she ever was needed. Along the blue-grey rock, her eyes traced the scrapes of blades with smeared blood coating the large gashes, perfectly mirroring the image if the mountain itself was bleeding. She shivered, hiding her hands in the sleeves of her coat once more.

The group remained quiet for the time as they climbed the mountain's slopes toward the gates. These stone paths had not been trodden on in a long while; they were crumbling and worn from the sun. She remembered wandering these paths with Kili and Fili as they scouted, she walked them with Balin and Thorin, and she had taken solace in the great statues that kept watch over the gates. And then her mind remembered the White Warg of Azog the Defiler taking her down as she had wandered far from the group. Her hand touched the scars on her waist as though they still burned with pain.

Abruptly, Ithil halted. Coruwen followed the gazes of her companions to a distinct line of bodies that lie before the gates of Erebor. The people were a mixture of Easterlings, dwarves, and Lake-Men – all with faces of horror and pain with limbs twisted in odd directions. Against the gate, a smear of blood shimmered in the starlight against the faceted gate. No light came from the high arches above the gate, which caused Coruwen's heart to drop.

"We are not too late, are we?" Tauriel whispered as Nerthus landed on the arches. Tauriel turned her head back to Coruwen with narrowed eyes. "What has happened?"

"I know as much as you, Tauriel," Coruwen stated evenly. "Hopefully, we are not too late."

Coruwen's eyes watched Nerthus as she hopped into the darkness behind the stone hedge with her shrill voice chirping through the halls like a siren. She dearly hoped that they were not going to open the gates and find thousands of innocents killed. That was her one wish…

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	21. Chapter 21

_**Royal Blood**_

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The night thrummed with the clattering of voices of metal below as he stared up at the dark gates. No light came from within, no noise, the world had fallen deathly silent. His eyes flicked down to the strewn bodies at Asfaloth's feet. They had died fighting for that which they loved, he reflected as he stroked his horse's neck. Within Erebor, he heard Nerthus' crows for help echoing throughout the halls. They sounded empty, lifeless, as though the dwarves had been permanently silenced.

And then the great gates creaked open with a dwarf woman sticking her head out to observe the world around her. She appeared familiar to Glorfindel; her hair was dark and her eyes bright blue. The woman looked in the direction of Asfaloth and she gasped in shock.

"Coruwen, I-I didn't think," The woman whispered in disbelief. Coruwen rode forward, edging Ithil over the bodies before she dismounted the mare to greet the woman. "Come; come inside, all of you – before they come back."

He was quite hesitant to go inside of Erebor, the thought of being beneath a mountain slightly unnerving him. Behind them, the gates shut with the shake of heavy chains sounding them to a halt. The halls were dimly lit and climbed higher to disappear into darkness. Aside from the large walkway that the company stood upon, the rest of the catwalks were thin and long like dashed in every direction thus connecting one side to the other.

"I was having second thoughts about sending for Freya without you," The woman's voice drew his attention back down. Coruwen had a hold of the woman's shoulder as she spoke. "They came by complete surprise. Esgaroth was unarmed and undermanned – so they burnt it to the ground. Brand was forced to flee from Dale when the Easterlings took the gates." The woman shook her head, apparently still in disbelief "So many are dead, so few hang on to life still."

His own heart shuddered – he understood the pain of losing so many lives. It was sadly inevitable, and all one could do was stand and watch sometimes. He watched Coruwen pat the woman's shoulder gently as her face became grieved.

"What of Dain and Brand?" Coruwen whispered, his own ears having a hard time picking up her soft voice. The woman looked up at her with tears catching the dim light. "I see, so you had no other choice."

"Dain said to call for you earlier, but… But, I couldn't seem to call you."

"Dís, all will be fine. Your brother would have done the same, trust me." She looked to her uncles and Himon. "Himon, Rumil, and Orophin – I need you up on the wall and keep an eye out for any Easterling strays that wander up."

The three dipped their head to her and vanished up a set of stairs that hidden by an engraved archway. He watched Coruwen run a hand through her hair as though nervous. She sighed quietly, her silver overcoat's sleeves bunching at her elbows as she raised her hand up to catch Elathan. He was still enamored with the little dragon; the way this one talked was like talking to one of his own kindred. The baby's tail curled around her wrist as she cradled him in her hand. Looking like this, he thought, she looks so strong. The glitter of power in her eyes, the evenness of her features made her appear so different to him.

Coruwen stroked Elathan's little head and from her lips came a word that was sounded close to their own language, yet touched different notes of her voice that became poetic. Together, the baby dragons flew from Erebor through a window. He walked up to Coruwen, placing a hand on her shoulder. She glanced back at him and through the pain and forcefulness of the issue, she smiled. The smile was clearly forced as her eyes held deep concern.

"Naruhel, go ahead and see what you can do," Coruwen stated. The sound of the healer's boots picked up as she walked past them. "Tauriel, Glorfindel, do as you please."

He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze then let his hand drop. "I will stay with you, dear." He whispered in her ear. The glimmer of joy passed in her eyes before it was masked by her concern and worry. He had held her earlier that day and made her laugh, and now she was silent. War never brought any joy to the world; it only desired to create chaos.

"Dís, tell me, do either Dain or Brand hang on to life still?" Coruwen asked as Tauriel ran after Naruhel. Dís looked to the ground, and whispered something inaudible.

"I believe Brand is, and if he is, he will not be on this plane much longer," Dís said gravely. "Come, follow me." She waved her hand and started up a flight of stairs that climbed into a long corridor of doors. The corridor seemed to hold a great tension that was dangling by a thin thread. Perhaps it was the voices of pain from within the rooms that they passed that collected the tension and then dispersed it into his heart. Dís stopped at a door, and then hesitantly knocked only to be answered by sobbing voice. Instantly, his heart fell – the Lord of Dale was dead by the tone of the people within.

Dís stepped back, a hand covering her mouth as she almost fell against the wall for support. He felt Coruwen grip his hand as she turned away with tears that desired to fall touching her eyes. Openly, he could not comfort her as he had wished, and could only take her hand in silence.

"Dís…" Coruwen started quietly, turning to face the woman. "I will tend to the injured, in the mean time; we need to hold out until Freya comes."

"You called her?" Dís asked. "But you said that dragons-,"

"I know what I said, but… But the amount of our dead is not greater than those of the Easterlings." Coruwen replied, releasing his hand. And with her hand, she summoned the brooding concern that had nestled itself deep in his heart to rise up and constrict his throat. "You need to be with your people, Dís. They need you right now."

The woman nodded slowly, "Right… You're right. Come and find me once again when you are spent, my friend."

The sound of Dís walking off seemed to quell the concern. He glanced up at Coruwen, finding her to be facing away from him in the dark. He reached out, running his fingers through the lower section of her hair that made her stiffen. She seemed unsettled to him, perhaps caused by the dire state in which this city was in, or it could have been any number of things. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her to his side and she remained mute.

"What is troubling you, dearest?" He whispered into her hair. She leaned into him to bury her face into his shoulder. "Coruwen, dear, speak to me."

Coruwen took a steady breath and turned her head where her cheek rested on his chest. "There is so much to do, and so little time," She murmured. "How ever do I fix this?"

"Think clearly for moment, if you need it. You have the others to help you. Calling Freya seemed to be a just idea," He assured her, running a hand through her hair. She mutely shook her head to which he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. Her eyes rose to his, the smallest of smiles coming to her face because of it. "Let us take one thing at a time, hm?"

"Yes, that seems a better idea than scrambling to pick up the pieces." She twined their fingers together, still with a ghostly smile on her lips. He was not surprised at all by her lack of happiness, for not even his soul could find joy anywhere amongst the mountain's halls.

~.~.~

Coruwen sighed as she leaned up against a stone archway. Her fingers tingled with numb nerves and her mind stretched thin. Thousands of men and dwarves were injured, some beyond repair, some even missing limbs or had massive gashes on their sides from broadswords. She numbly touched her fingers to her thumb, assessing their feeling slowly. She lost count of how many times she pricked herself because her patient had wriggled or slumped down because of pain. Looking towards the main gate, she caught the glimpses of morning's light streaming through the archways to pool at the base of the gate in great swirling pools. They had arrived in the late hours of the evening and worked through the night to heal the injured. At some point in the night, she had sent Glorfindel up to the wall to keep watch with her uncles while Himon assisted Naruhel and Tauriel.

"I suppose you came over here to escape?" Tauriel's voice came from behind her. She turned her gaze over to the red head as she ran a hand across her face. Coruwen let out a small laugh, nodding. "I have no idea how she does it, Naruhel. However, it seems to me that Himon is more than willing to help her… How does that strike you?"

Coruwen glanced back down the gloomy corridor, a small smirk on her face. It seemed to her that Himon was slightly stricken by Naruhel, but that was her opinion. "Possibly smitten, but Himon is tricky," Coruwen replied as her fingers coiled around her necklace.

Freya had yet to come and to say the least it was bothering her why Freya had not come with haste. Why had she not come? Was it because of Elathan and Nerthus having to take their time? These were only a few questions she was inwardly asking herself.

Tauriel smiled, "Possibly, it is always possible with ellyn, really." The woman started up the steps that led up to the wall, and then she stopped, glancing back. "Come with me?"

She nodded and followed after Tauriel. The air that buffeted her when she slid out of the door was brisk, as though it had been waiting for her the entire time with its cool touch. Her heart nearly stopped when she found Rumil standing on the edge of the stone hedge like an agile fox.

"Rumil," She hissed, narrowing her eyes at her younger uncle. Rumil looked over at her, and then leapt down from the ledge gracefully. Her heart had leapt up into her throat at the sight of falling. She glanced around him, not seeing Orophin or Glorfindel nearby. "Where are the other two?"

Rumil sent her a look of feigned hurt, "I see how you are, robin." He muttered. Coruwen walked up to Rumil, leaning up against him slightly to which he placed his chin on her head. "Phin and Glorfindel wandered around the corner a while back and they have not come back since…"

She slid out of Rumil's grip, leaning on the stone hedge. Below, the Easterlings milled around, appearing like waves of rolling red and black cloth. There were so many, spears of crude steel standing out in the sun, shields depicting a six pointed star flashing, and upon the tower sat Khamûl with his companion at his side.

"It feels like we are fighting the sea's current rather than a battle," She muttered breathlessly, leaning on the heel of her hand. How could they fight such a great force? Dragons or no dragons, this was going to be a task. Rumil placed his hand on her upper back, causing her to straighten like a cat. She cast a fretful look to her uncle before returning her gaze to the Easterling forces. "Perhaps I have led us to our doom…"

"No, you have not, my robin," Rumil said. "You trust what _your_ mind is telling you. There is no wrong in that."

"Then explain to me, how exactly we are going to fend off eight thousand spears and two Nazgûl?" Her blood sent frustration through her, she felt so stretched – like a harp string strung too tightly. Rumil motioned to the scale around her neck, and she gave him a stubborn shake of her head. "I am unsure if Freya can come to us or even if her babies made it back. For now, we are going to have to think of something."

"The world has an interesting sense of cruelty and humor." Rumil placed his hand over hers, gently rubbing the top of it with his thumb. A bit of silent reassurance was something soothed her boiling blood and loosened the pessimistic bonds that had laced themselves around her neck. At least if she were to fall, it would be with the people that considered her one of them, with the elves that chose to follow her, and with the man she cared for into the depths of the abyss. She bowed her head in thought, clutching Rumil's hand in her own.

Turning his hands, she felt his fingertips, though smooth – they still possessed a bit of roughness from the use of blades. They were like Haldir's, or rather a perfect personification of them. Her mind evoked the image of a younger version of herself holding onto hands like these and tracing the lines in his hands. Tears swelled in her eyes, yet she could not let them fall. Her heart still ached for the loss of Haldir.

"Robin, I know you miss him… I can see it," Rumil said in a gentle voice. His tone reminded her of how one speaks to a frightened animal. "Phin gets the same look, the same look of melancholy. I know that I look at my hands and see Haldir's sometimes."

"Rumil, I… I feel like I never got to say goodbye... He acted bitterly towards me, and I him. My heart longs for him still."

"I know the feeling, my robin. Phin and I watched him tumble down to the floor, only for Aragorn to protect him as he faded." Her uncle sighed heavily, shaking his head. "If he were here…" He let out a huff of laughter that sounded almost bitter to her ears. "By the Valar, I am not my brother. Haldir was so dutiful to what he did, it was almost uncanny."

"Like he was born into this world gifted with it?"

"Aye, took the words right out of my mouth, robin."

The sounds of two low timbre voices made Coruwen look to the left. From around the bend of the catwalk came Glorfindel and Orophin, walking side by side. Glorfindel kept speaking to Orophin, but met her eyes and gave her an incline of his head in silent greeting. Orophin finished his sentence as he came to settle beside Rumil.

"What are you doing out here?" Orophin asked, gently nudging his brother away a bit so he could look over the wall.

"I was fed up with healing the injured for now," She admitted with a sigh. "I also pricked my fingers far too many times when trying to stitch some wounds. People were a tad groggy when I got a hold of them."

She could still feel the tips of her fingers tingle as they regained consciousness. A loud churn of noise caught her attention instantly. On a ridge, sat an Easterling scout, crouched low like a cat. Orophin smoothly slid the bow from his back as his other hand withdrew a white feathered arrow. In a snap and twang, the arrow was set and released with a god like swiftness, meeting its mark in the neck of the scout.

"I see they are becoming brave," Glorfindel noted as he watched the scout tumble to the ground like a ragdoll. "I believe Tauriel is up here somewhere, do you two still wish to keep an eye on the wall?"

"If I understand my brother correctly, we are fine." Orophin replied, his eyes still fixated on the ridges around the main gate. Rumil gave him a stiff nod as he walked around Orophin to the other end of the stone wall. She felt a tug on her coat's sleeve making her glance back at Glorfindel as he disappeared down the flight of steps into Erebor's depths. It seemed as though he was trying to lighten her mood a bit by drawing her attention away from other tasks. Happiness warmed her heart as she trailed after him down the steps and into the main entryway.

"Whatever are you doing?" She called as she stopped in front of him. He gave her a sly smile. "I know you are trying to distract me but… But there is simply too much going on, dear."

He sighed quietly as he took her by the waist and pulled her into him. Her hand braced his chest despite the cool pricks of metal nipping at her sprawled hand. She glanced up at him, worry sinking its teeth into her heart.

"Worry does not befit you, my dearest," Glorfindel whispered into her hair. How she loved the sound of his voice, the deep, low timbre that seemed to resonate through his chest and up her hand as he spoke. "It never has… And never will."

"You freed me from living a life that was drowned in depression and concern," She returned with a faint smile. "You have changed me so much…"

He dropped a kiss into her hair, and then ran his fingers through it. A shiver danced down her spine when his hand graced her low back. Her body remembered what her mind had forgotten – it remembered how to love and accept the love given. It was still so foreign to her that she barely remembered the way passion could ignite one's blood or the feeling of simple caresses. She wrapped her arms around him, ignoring the cool nip of his armor to rest her head just above his heart.

"And you have changed me," He said at last. "Though you still can slip into your old ways every now and again. What you need to do is simply let your heart command you rather than fight it. You are worrying yourself into a rut with this battle on the morrow. You have done it before, just listen again, dearest."

"How is it you know more about me than I know about me?"

He chuckled, "You act in certain ways that simply catches my eye."

A light scoff escaped her. "Really? Name one."

"Last evening you changed for a split moment. You were commanding the dragons as well as the others that followed you here." Her heart shuddered for a moment – those words striking up an oddly familiar cord in her heartstrings. That nature lived within her, that great sense of command that she had thought of as a curse. "It lives within you – right here." He touched her heart with two fingers that seemed felt as though he had pushed her.

"I cannot deny that I do not feel it. I thought of it as a curse." He tilted his head to the side and she smiled. "I see it as a curse because I never knew what good came from it. Now that I have a purpose once more, I can freely accept it into my heart."

Glorfindel nodded, "It, along with thousands of other things that you have forgotten."

Looking up, she saw the flicker of love pass in his eyes. Yes, she had forgotten how to love – even forgotten what love looked like in the eyes - but it was being slowly remedied. She had forgotten how to wield a blade, and thus she fixed it. Shards of her old life were intermingling with the ones she currently possessed. Coruwen pressed a hand against his cheek and then slid it to trace his jaw. If she could only -.

A loud crack snapped the two away from each. They shared a cryptic look before darting off in the direction of the snap and crack as it shook the air once again. The back gate was cracked again and the chains quivered in fear at the force of each smash. The dragon gate shook again, this time a little bit of light slipped through. A smile crept onto her features when a roar split the air.

"She came…" Glorfindel muttered in awe.

"Of course she did," Coruwen laughed, though it came out as one of shock rather than excitement.

Upon hitting the switch, the chains awakened in a quiet shudder and then worked to pull the broad gates ajar. When the light of dawn peeked through, Freya and Heimdall could be seen hovering just above the gate. Their wings beat the air in such a way that the air screamed with each flex of their shoulders to keep themselves aloft. Through the slight crack in the door, Nerthus and Elathan slipped in to come over to her. Coruwen held out her hand for Elathan to cradle him as he landed in her palm. Nerthus hooked her claws onto Glorfindel's epaulet to sit delicately beside his head.

"We came as promised, Lady Dragon," Elathan stated with pride. "It took a great amount of convincing with Bormah, but it happened."

Coruwen nodded, running her fingers across the ridges above his great teal eyes. The little dragon hummed, settling himself into her arms like a cat with his tail curled around her wrist. When the gates opened wide, Freya dove inside – coming to a skidding halt before the elves. As she looked up at Freya, she saw the wildness of concern in her eyes that darkened them to the color of aged amber that was lit by fire. Heimdall landed behind Freya with arrows lodged in his scales that he began to pick out like one rids splinters from their fingers. Coruwen pulled the lever back to its starting position to allow the gates to shut.

"We were correct, were we not?" Elathan said, taking an unabashed approach to his father and mother. Coruwen physically cringed – Freya looked down her nose at her son as he lay in her arms. With a snarl, Freya looked back at Heimdall, whispering a few words to him as he pulled an arrow out of his shoulder.

"Freya," Coruwen started uneasily, drawing her attention. The dragoness' features softened as she lay down. Coruwen cradled Elathan like one of her own children against her chest and outstretched her hand for Freya to touch. Freya gently touched her snout to Coruwen's hand and then pulled back, looking to Glorfindel. From a previous lesson from Smaug, he bowed to her as a sign of respect.

But she merely chuckled, "You need not bow to me, little lord. You are under the protection of my Dear One, and thus you need only extend your hand to me."

Glorfindel blinked in shock, looking to her for an answer. Coruwen assumed that Freya could sense her love for him, or Freya had an excellent sense of how she functioned. She smiled, giving him a gesture to do as Freya had instructed. Outstretching his hand, Glorfindel physically jumped when Freya touched her nose to his hand, yet her eyes watched him intently. Coruwen inwardly was beaming at the trust Freya placed within him. There were few Freya trusted. However, it seemed to Coruwen that if she trusted someone –or in this case put her heart in someone's hands – then Freya would oblige as well. Coruwen had saved Thorin's skin several times when Freya became upset by something that he had said to her that was not exactly correct. Freya pulled back, snorting out a bit of smoke that was similar to how one sneezes.

"I have seen the Easterlings, dear one," Freya stated. "They are quite numerous – do you have a plan?"

Coruwen laughed nervously, her nails digging into Elathan's scales as her worry brooded. "Not exactly…" She admitted half heartedly. Freya chuckled, giving her a nudge in the hip. She yelped, her body practically being tossed by the queen. A sigh escaped her. "Freya, there are thousands of spears. What must I do?"

"Burn them, my little one," Freya replied as though it were obvious. "Burn them to the ground until nothing if left but cinders."

"I cannot risk your life, _or_ the life of Heimdall," Coruwen's voice rose in frustration as her concern started to swallow her. Her mind was too busy trying to decipher its own problems to pull itself free of the pit. Freya arched one eyebrow in question. She turned back to Glorfindel, still clutching Elathan to her chest in anxiety. "How long do you figure that we can hold?"

He held her gaze for a moment before it drifted off as though he was regretting to tell her something. She narrowed her eyes at him and then focused back on Freya. The dragoness eyed them both then rested her head on the beam above her head.

"Two days, at the most," Glorfindel said. The hesitation in his tone chilled her soul. He had been in war before, yet it seemed that he could not decipher the amount of trouble. She cast a fretful look back at him. "The dwarves heal faster than the Lake-Men, meaning by the time the plunge happens, we will at least have a standing force. And now with the two of you, we can handle the Nazgûl."

A snarl came from Heimdall, but Freya smacked his face with her tail. "I see then what must I do then, my little one?" Freya asked.

"For now, keep everyone on their toes, Freya." She rubbed Elathan's head gently with two fingers causing him to hum happily. "I need to make sure that the others are all right."

"Aye, my little one. I shall do as you ask," Freya turned in a circle and lay down with her head on her paws. Elathan and Nerthus departed the elves as they climbed the stairs. Coruwen stopped at the top of the stairs, slipping into the shadows of an archway.

"Dearest, are you all right?" Glorfindel asked in a low voice. She could not bear to look at him with the way her body shook. She was silently telling herself that she needed to be strong; she needed to help them… Now was a terrible time for second thoughts, she chided. "Come here."

"I need to stand on my own, Glorfindel," She whispered keeping the shakiness out of her voice.

"Even the strongest of walls have weaknesses, my dearest," He explained. "Your wall is only being rebuilt as we speak. Still, your mind has to fill in that which was broken. You were oh so very broken, dearest." She looked up at him. It took every bit of her soul to sate the trepidation in her body. He was right. She numbly shook her head, trusting that she could deal with this herself. "What is it you would ask of me?"

"You have more experience than I when it comes to war. I do need your assistance, but… But I need to figure out what to do first."

"As I said before, let us take one thing at a time. Have you found Dain's son yet?" She shook her head, "And Brand's son?"

"I have found neither."

"Then I will try to find Brand's son while you try to find Dain's?"

She nodded slowly and then wandered away from Glorfindel to find Dís. The sounds of familiar bickering echoed from the main hall nearby touched her ears. The sound of deep voices singing struck a note in her heart as she approached the main hall's gate. Poking her head inside, she saw a familiar group of dwarves – though most touched by old age at this point – were singing together with Dís sitting on the steps before the throne. She slipped inside, listening to the voices of the old Company echo off of the vaulted ceiling. She remembered this song, the song of the Lonely Mountain that she had heard slip from Thorin before.

Padding across the floor to slip into the shadows of the great blue-grey pillars, Coruwen stood behind Dori and Gloín, listening to them end their song on fading note. Gently, she placed her hands on their shoulders feeling them tense up. Dís peered back at her, meeting her eyes as a great mischief fluttered in her chest.

Gloín snapped his head back in her direction with the great defending fire of the dwarves glowing in his eyes. When he recognized her, the fire was banked and a sad smile crept into his aging features.

"By Mahal, Dís was right!" Gloín boomed, standing. "And then… That loud boom was her?"

"Aye, Master Gloín, it was," Coruwen assured him, resting her weight on the backs of her heels. The dwarves all looked up at her in awe. She gave them a simple, small smile. "The Queen has returned."

"Aye, both have," Dori replied. She looked down at him, not quite understanding what he may have meant. What did they mean both? And then it hit her like a strike of lightning – the other was her. "Thorin Oakenshield's Dragon Queen has returned after so long."

Dís stood, "Though she dons a new set of scales, no?"

Coruwen chuckled, nodding, "Yes... She has." Hearing them use her name mingled with Thorin's hurt, but it was the sad truth. He had named her, and it was _he_ that had called her, his queen. Though it was Glorfindel that called her dearest, she reminded herself, Thorin never called her dear or dearest. A teary smile spread in her mind. It still hurt… Thorin still ached in her mind. Steeling herself, she looked to Dís, "Where might I find Dain's eldest son?"

Dís' eyebrows shot up, her fingers drumming on the stone steps. "He is currently unconscious." She said gravely. Coruwen sighed, nodding to accept the news. "I don't know what all I can do. I thought you might have an exact idea…"

Her mind steadied itself for the incoming speech. "What caused it?"

"An Easterling poison that none of us could identify."

"If I can get him to awaken, can I speak with him?"

Dís nodded and sighed. "I'm sorry I cannot do more."

Coruwen shook her head, smiling, "I will fix this, Dís. I promised your brother that I would keep Erebor, and all of her wonders, safe. And safe shall she stay."

~.~.~

Lake-Men appeared far more different to him than he would have guessed. Most were grim creatures with sunken eyes and pale faces that made them appear like breathing ghosts. He had asked to see Bard, son of Brand, yet a guard looked at him in a rather puzzled manner as though an elf had never spoken to him before. The guard blinked like a dumbstruck deer then a quiet voice came from within the room behind him. From the shadows, came a young girl, badly bruised and cut with stringy black hair that covered her bright face. In a way, she reminded him a jewel that lay in the depths of a river. Her eyes widened like saucers as she stared up at him.

"Whoa," The girl awed. Elflings and children alike warmed his heart to see – though the latter were deeply intrigued by his physical appearance to pay any mind to the words that he spoke. Kneeling down, he came down to the girl's level as her eyes searched him curiously. "You're an elf."

He smiled, "And you are a little girl." She giggled with a bright cheerful smile. "What is one so small doing speaking to the guards, hmm?"

"I am Bard's sister, Mary, and acting… Re…Rege," She clenched her little hands into fists, crossing them over her chest with a pout on her face. "Michael, what am I again?"

"Lady Regent, until your brother surfaces, Lady Mary," The guard answered formally. She looked to be no more than six or seven by the aging of Men, yet she spoke to these men like they were her size. Glorfindel gave Mary credit; she had the ferocity of a true noble lady.

"That," Mary answered, giving a toss of her head in the direction of the guard. "Bard got knocked on the head with a rock…"

"Nasty things, rocks." She laughed again and he smiled in return, yet she whispered out something that the guard behind chuckled to. "Lady Mary, tell me, would you happen to know about… Oh, how many men you have, would you?"

Mary pointed at the guard behind him. "Michael knows – Michael knows everything!"

The guard stiffened, yet kept his calm demeanor. "Now, milady…"

"No!" She shook her head over and over. Her stringy hair bouncing around her pale face. "You said so the other day, I heard you!"

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow to Mary as she shot a few words in the tongue of the Lake-Men at her companion. Her words were like snapping teeth as she ordered the guard as she hung onto the door's handle with both hands. Glorfindel silently pitied the man that married little Mary. She shut the door in a quick leap that left him with this man, Michael.

"Stubborn thing…?" He asked in a playful manner. The guard glanced up, scratching the back of his head. The guard sighed, scuffing the ground with the heel of his boot. "I pity the fool that takes her hand."

"Aye, same, Lord Elf," Michael murmured. "Lady Mary wished it of me to show you who all we have left – so if you wouldn't mind following me."

Michael started down the dark corridor and Glorfindel shadowed his footsteps finding that the halls mimicked each clatter of boot heels to echo down. These halls once had been nothing but rubble from Smaug. Coruwen had wandered every inch of the dismantled halls at one point still dumbfounded him, but then again she was different back then Now, these halls were filled with life once again or rather the bright spark of the dwarves caused the fire of Erebor to return. The halls seemed to be carved out of darkness and veined with light that rose and fell throughout the walkways and walls. Michael abruptly halted before a great stairwell with many Lake-Men sitting on benches – all with grim features creased with grief and despair.

"Hey, the lot of you sit up and let me count you!" Michael shouted. Many raised their heads while the others sighed and dreadfully stood. Some wore colors of vermillion and gold with decorated fronts while the others wore blackened leather to make them appear like grim shadows. There were four gold knights, he reflected, more than likely the Lord's Knights while the others appear to be archers or sell swords. Michael turned to him. "Fifty six if you count me and the Lord Bard."

"Ah, thank you, Michael," He replied with an incline of his head. Michael bowed and then hurried off in the direction of the corridor.

Glorfindel looked down at the men that appeared haggard. Fifty six spears weren't enough to even touch the lines of the Easterlings in their current state. Now he understood his love's worry – her concern and her doubt – with so few blades and spears at their disposal, it seemed hopeless. Turning away from the Lake-Men, he started back toward Freya or possibly Coruwen's uncles to find something to distract him. The older one, Orophin, had figured out what he had done rather quickly and questioned him. Orophin had every right to be suspicious – though oddly pleased – by the quick turn of his niece's attitude. He stopped by the entrance of an archway, running a hand across his face. Were the two of them _that_ obvious? For even Freya had noticed!

"My lord?" A voice spooked him and he blinked, staring over at Naruhel and Tauriel. The ellith smiled, with a knowing smile beginning to form on Naruhel's face. Tauriel nudged her friend in the side. "We have been asked to bring you to Lady Coruwen."

"What is the matter?" He asked, suspicion and a strange protectiveness stirred his blood as Tauriel worried her lip. "Tauriel, I am not angry, I simply need you to speak to me."

Naruhel fidgeted with a long ringlet. "Thorin Stonehelm was poisoned, and neither I, nor Lady Coruwen know what the poison consists of." The other red head informed. His blood sated itself with her words. He gave her a grateful look to which she dipped her head to him in response. Tauriel stepped aside as he followed Naruhel to a level much higher than the previous ones and only the hall was only illuminated by stray candles that flickered upon the banners of silver and gold. Naruhel slinked inside of a cracked door, and then he heard Coruwen's voice speaking softly to the other elleth.

Out of the door came a familiar auburn haired elleth, motioning for him to come inside. The room was quite grand, a fire and a candle glowed brightly in the room that hid most of the grandeur banners and furniture that possibly was spread around the room. Lying in bed of furs was a young dwarf with young features and dark brown hair. Coming closer to the dwarf, Glorfindel noticed across his chest were many burns, scratches, cuts, and scars with many dripping odd black ooze.

"You have a bit more medical experience than Naruhel and I. I thought you might have an idea to what is causing him pain," Coruwen whispered in his ear. He glanced back at her then at the ooze. It was familiar to him – the scent of death coming off of it rather triggered his memory. This poison came from the children of Ungoliant mixed with a certain flower that grows in the south near the borders of the Southron tribes – what type of flower it was had absently slipped his mind.

"It is treatable, my ladies," He returned quietly. "Though I know what toxin has spread in his blood, the other component has slipped my mind."

Naruhel sunk into a chair with eyes blinking in confused curiosity. Coruwen stared up at him, her brow furrowed in thought and edges of her mouth pulled down in a frown. The latter touched her fingers to the dwarf's forehead and soon they trailed down to a risen, infected wound. Slowly, her features smoothed out in realization.

"A mixture of willow bark-,"

He caught the uncertainty in her voice and finished for her, "Laurel leaves and-,"

"And Vervain."

A soft giggle came from Naruhel that drew his mind's gaze yet his true gaze was on his shining lady as she smiled knowingly at him. She passed him and gave Naruhel a soft tap on the head to follow. His heart could not decide to be impressed or in awe of his Dearest's ability of medicinal herbs. In the depths of his heart, it whispered what his lips and lungs could not breathe to life.

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**A/N: Ah, this chapter has so much going on. It's almost silly! The three herbs that are named at the end of the chapter actually have medicinal use! And they took me forever to find! **

**Question: So, we're getting into the Siege of Erebor which means that it's coming in the next few chapters. Do you all want me to give it to you this weekend as a whole, or do you just want you wait like normal? **

_**Please Review! I know that there are many readers out there, so could you maybe drop me a review to tell me how I'm doing? Please? **_


	22. Chapter 22

_**Concerns and Doubt**_

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_Two days later... _

Coruwen tapped her fingers on the leather scabbard of her knife with her nails picking at the curved hilt. Through the use poultices and medical knowledge, they had managed to heal Thorin Stonehelm and Bard. The dormant city seemed to liven up once more after that – men were having weapons sharpened, armor was having the dents hammered out, and arrows were fletched. She stood on a walkway that overlooked the churning sea of people below with one of her arms draped over the side. She finally managed to calm the doubt in her heart and keep it beneath her despite its urges to rise up and over her head. However, with the fall of her doubt came a deep trouble.

Glorfindel said two days… At the most.

Her heart dropped out of her chest at the memory of his words. Yet that was not her trouble – her trouble was something she could not depict. It had started the other day when she had found an Easterling archer raising a perfectly poised arrow in the direction of Orophin. Ever since that moment – that mere split moment – her heart had yet to settle and her mind was a frazzled mess. She cradled her face in her hands – how did worry come to her so swiftly? No matter what she did – healing the injured, speaking with old friends, anything – it did not stop a pit of heat from coiling in her abdomen.

Behind her, footsteps came like hammer strikes to her ears. She raised her head with the knowledge of who those footsteps belonged to. No elf could have possessed them; the heel struck the stone too heavy, the boots sounded steel toed to her sensitive ears.

"Are you the Dragon Queen?" A crackling voice asked. Coruwen turned her head slightly, only to see the young man before her out of one eye. It was like looking into a mirror from the past – the dark hair and warm brown eyes – one where she saw a certain descendent of Girion, Lord of Dale. He was built like him, held himself the same, the same sense of budding lordship coming from him.

"I am," Coruwen straightened, giving him a bow of her head in the deepest sense of respect. "And you must be Bard, son of Brand?"

"Second of his name and heir apparent to the Golden City of Dale," Bard replied with a low, sweeping bow, "At your service, Lady Dragon."

"It should be I that is bowing to you, Bard." She tucked her hands behind her back, holding herself high around this young man. Bard straightened with a smirk quirking up the sides of his lips, "Though I could have mistaken you for a ghost."

He cocked an eyebrow then turned in a circle, utterly confused. She laughed – yes, this lad was of Bard's descent with that sort of silliness. His smirk had dropped as he looked over at her like a moonstruck animal.

"Whatever do you mean, Lady Dragon?" His body wriggling to shift his clothes as though they had been mussed. She leaned against the railing, tipping her gaze back to the shifting colors that decorated the obsidian walls of these great halls. They were dark then grey then dark once more, like an ever changing aura of dark muted hues of color. The silvery veins were Erebor's blood, the very thing that gave it life and gave its people song. The Company had sung of her beauty, even those that knew little of Erebor's grace. "My lady?"

Coruwen looked back at Bard, embarrassed that she had let herself become lost in Erebor's walls. "You look like your Great-Grandfather, young lord," She said with a soft smile of knowing. Bard's face flushed a light shade of pink at the statement. "There is no wrong in that…"

"Ah, I know. Though, coming from the woman that knew my Great-Grandfather seems almost…." He rotated the sword at his hip with his fingers slipping into the grooves in the metal. "Seems almost unrealistic to someone like myself."

"Yes, I suppose it would. You are not even two decades old yet, young one."

Bard's features became etched with sorrow. "Aye, Father and Mother both have passed leaving only Mary and I to fulfill the titles mingled with our family."

"Let me ask something of you, Bard son of Brand." He gave her a bow of his head. "If given the chance to use the heirloom of your Great-Grandfather, would you use it to strike down the beast that took your city?"

Boldness clearly flooded the boy, his eyes darkened to the color of rich soil and his lips pressed into a firm line. Her words had struck a steely heartstring in him that kindled the fire of Girion's line. He nodded to her to which she smiled – he was of Bard's line by the gold veins of fire in his eyes.

"What heirloom do you speak of?"

"Within the catacombs lies a bow carved of yew wood engraved with a dragon's fallen form. That… That is your key, young one."

"The bow of my Great-Grandfather Bard?"

She nodded and turned back to watching the people below mill about. Bard's footfalls disappeared out of her hearing. She ran her hand through her hair as trouble filled her heart. Perhaps it was the fact that a great force stood at their doorstep. Anguish tore at her soul, crawling beneath her skin and icing her blood. She could not show that she was in turmoil – it would bother her allies and the focus was to be held on the enemies.

"This is nothing…" She whispered to herself. "They will come back… They always have."

Yes, yes they would, she reflected. She clutched the scale at her throat until her knuckles turned white. A loud roar shook her chest, but if she listened enough, she realized it did not belong to her dragons.

"_It has begun,"_ Her mind stated.

She turned away from the railing when Glorfindel came up the steps with Tauriel behind him. She could not bear to look up at the two of them as the anguish coiled tighter and tighter in her stomach. Glorfindel's armor alerted her to his nearby presence while Tauriel's red hair appeared in her side vision.

"Coruwen, it -," Tauriel started but she held up a hand, all ready aware of the Nazgûl overhead. She dearly did not want to hear those words. She kept her gaze held low. "What must we do?"

"Thorin and Bard have their armies under control. The rest of you need to assemble yourselves near Freya and Heimdall – wait for me there," Coruwen instructed. Tauriel's muffled footsteps drifted away from her yet she could still feel Glorfindel near her.

_It coiled…_

"Death shall not take any of us, dear," He breathed. She raised her head but looked past him – her soul all ready full of turmoil and grief. She turned away and stood before the railing with her hands cradling her elbows. "Coruwen... stop berating yourself."

_It tightened… _

He sighed; his armor shifting was a sign to her that he was coming near. Against her back, she felt his shoulder and then the front of his hip with his chest directly behind her right shoulder. She couldn't look at him… She couldn't…. She couldn't bear to lose him! He leaned forward to put his hands on the railing, her eyes tracing the delicate engraved silver of his gauntlets.

"We all fear death, my dearest," Glorfindel said, his voice making her shiver as his lips pressed against her temple lightly. No warmth spread in her heart, only grief. She feared to lose him – she feared that if she grew to attached to him that the Valar would snatch him away from her like they had done with Thorin. She reached out, taking one of his armored wrists and moved it to her waist. Steadily, his grip tightened around her as though she would slip. "Let me tell you what I have learned to tell death…"

_It twisted, growing hot. _

She tilted her head back to rest it upon his shoulder. His dark blue eyes, in their own way, swam with love and grief. His features were stoic, never showing the emotion that his eyes portrayed. His other hand slid from the railing to fit around her waist and pulled her closer – as close as she could come to being flush up against him with his armor restricting his movements.

"I have learned to tell death, not today and not ever," His voice strong as he pressed a feathery kiss into her hair. She felt his breath in her hair as he exhaled. Shutting her eyes, she placed her hands on his forearms, unable to tear away from him at that moment. "Have I ever told you that worry does not befit you?"

"Many…" She managed through her grief. She opened her eyes and held his gaze, the gaze that the man she cared for. She could have gotten lost in his eyes for they held so much strength and wisdom that seemed to plunge further and further.

"Dearest love," His voice a whisper as he bent down to kiss her, but brushed her lips before pulling away. "My dear Coruwen… You should not worry as much as you do. I promise I will return to you…"

Her hand ran up his armored chest, her fingers remembering every engraving, the smoothness of the steel that shimmered like a great, silver star. It climbed up to his throat then to his jaw to feel the smooth skin and engrave it into her mind. It finally slipped into his gold hair where it curled around her fingers.

"I do not believe you," She said stubbornly. "A man once said that to me, and I found him dead. Now, you hold my heart and… And I hold yours, but I cannot trust you with returning to me."

"Then no promise I can make to you will make you trust me…" He shut his eyes for a moment. "It is your heart that does not trust me. Let your soul speak."

And her soul spoke.

She turned in his arms and wound her arms around his neck as her soul became unbound from the anguish and grief. She poured every bit of her turmoil into him, pressing her lips firm against his as the coil in her abdomen released. Her fingers wound themselves into his hair, relishing the way it slipped through each ligament and tangled around each one as though it desired to hang on to her. His hands slid down her sides to her back, where they rested as though finally at peace. In a sudden wave, a newfound despair washed over her – she didn't want him to leave her. Silently, the hot tears slipped from her eyes. In response, his hands pulled her tighter to him with her heart pounding in her ears. For so long her desires had been held by great, restricting cords. In that moment, she let them be free, and he the same.

Eventually, they released the other but still stood in each other's presence as though held by the great force of the world. Her eyes burned and her skin warm from the release of the great coil. He bent down to her once more, kissing away the tears that slipped once more and then rested his forehead against hers. She leaned up and kissed his lips lightly, yet let it linger for a moment.

"Promise to return to me?" She whispered finally. He caught her lips in a soft kiss that made her heart dance. Her fingers slid from his hair, but twisted one lock to place it on his shoulder.

"I will always return, my love." She smiled up at him. Though out love or forcefulness, she knew not. He lowered his lips to her neck once, placing a soft – almost ghostly – kiss on the vein that throbbed with her racing pulse. Her entire being shuddered when he rested the crook of his face on her shoulder. She nestled her face into his hair just as he had done, breathing in his scent. He smelled of the river and of leather mingled with touches of clean, spring air. Her fingers slipped through his hair once more and then wound themselves into his cloak.

Still she worried for him.

Still she dreaded if he was to return to her or not.

"The others will worry where we have run off to, beloved," She whispered in his ear. He raised his head, peering into the distance before it flicked back down to her. A soft smile touched his handsome features as she ran her fingers across his chiseled cheekbone. The pet name so easily slid off of her tongue that it surprised her. And yet, her heart delighted in speaking what was the truth in her eyes.

"Yes, you are correct," He returned. His hands slid from her low back to take one of her far smaller hands. She slipped her fingers in-between his as best she could. Before departing, he lightly kissed her temple sending sparks of delight throughout her body. They avoided the swarms of Lake-Men and dwarves that assembled before the main gate and down into a lower level where Freya lay with Heimdall at her side. Coruwen abandoned Glorfindel's side to take Elathan into her arms as he sailed down from the perch on his father's head.

"They have come, dear one," Freya stated gravely. "We follow you…"

"I know," Coruwen replied evenly, her fingers rubbing the cool scales of the baby dragon in her arms. Above them, Coruwen caught sight of Bard and Thorin as they poked their heads over the side as though asking permission to start. She gave them a slight dip of her head and they disappeared. "Come to me, little ones."

From the folds of the bigger dragons came Nerthus with an emerald green baby following her and from beneath Freya's side came a long, broad shoulder red baby. Nerthus leapt up onto Coruwen's forearm while Elathan took up a spot on her shoulder. Reaching for the handle of the dragon gate, Coruwen heard the clamor of the gates opening wide. The whoosh of air from the main gate taking a breath alerted her to the sounds of war outside their walls – the chanting of the Men of Rhun mingled with the bellows of the Nazgûl beasts made her almost hesitate. But she could not – not now or ever.

"Go," She said firmly, looking to Gilion and Himon. The two blinked in confusion then shared a look between them as though in disbelief. "I need you all to go, now."

"Coruwen," Himon began but Gilion tapped him on the shoulder in a silent admonish. The Mirkwood general bowed curtly and followed the other Galadhrim. Tauriel remained behind as well as Glorfindel.

She looked to Tauriel first, unsure to why she remained behind. "I will stay at your side, my lady," Tauriel stated. Coruwen nodded then looked to Glorfindel. She approached him, gently gracing her fingers over his.

"Be careful…" She whispered and he bowed his head to her. The look of hurt showed in his eyes, the pain of having to leave her was clear to see. However, he had sworn to return to her. "Now go…"

He whirled around in a flurry of royal blue and silver, disappearing up the steps to join the other armies. Coruwen turned to the dragon gate's lever, and struck it to awaken. Instantly, the gate began to groan as she awakened it by using its leash. Light burst through the door and many covered their eyes because of the sudden brightness. Coruwen felt something within her shift as she looked up at Freya – something stony and strong like the cords that had once bound her into grief.

Walking over the edge of the archway with Tauriel beside her, Coruwen looked to Freya, who stood to look over the edge of the gate. "Freya," Coruwen stated with the ferocity and evenness making her sound foreign to her own ears. "Set fire to the armies…"

Freya smiled wickedly, "That… That I can do, my elleth."

Coruwen climbed the steps with Tauriel at her heels as Freya roared into the heavens. The roar shook the walls of Erebor causing every person within the walls to look up to the ceilings in awe and shock. Dís joined Coruwen as she made her way to the wall to watch their armies march on the Easterlings. In response to their mother, all of her babies chimed in when she shook the heavens once again with her voice.

By the time she reached the wall, Coruwen spied Asfaloth on an outcropping of rock with the other horses standing side by side. A bellow roar made her glance up to the sky to spy a Nazgûl rider lifting itself into the air. It caught the Lake-Men first, tossing them aside or dividing their ranks with a swoop of its lanky body.

"Monah!" Nerthus cried as her mother crashed into the impending Nazgûl, and discombobulated it by sending it awry into the smoldering ashes of Esgaroth. Coruwen shivered at the display of power. Freya hovered and roared at the Nazgûl as it hissed in pain.

And then at once, Freya dove into the Easterling ranks to make them part like a great divide. In a great roar, a hot jet of flame burst from her maw and lit half of the army ablaze. The amber tongues of flame caressed each man until they were nothing more than cinders left for the ground to feast upon.

"And that is why Erebor was only ever taken by a dragon," Dís commented as though obvious. Coruwen glanced down at the princess, smiling. "My brother told you, no?"

"I had a vision of Erebor's demise. So I have some bearing of the power of dragons," Coruwen jested as she ducked her head for Elathan's wings to flap in joy at the sight of his mother torching the world. The princess smiled slyly, leaning on the stone rail. "And yes, your brother vented quite heavily to me about Smaug destroying this city."

"That would be my brother," Dís sighed, shaking her head.

"My lady?" Tauriel interrupted, giving Coruwen a sideways look. She inclined her had in response to the title, and looked to Tauriel. "Look," She motioned toward Himon and the other riders as they disappeared into the rising flames and sea of Rhun men.

In an instant, Coruwen's heart sank. It was enough that she had sent Freya into the face of danger, but it only added insult to injury when she told Glorfindel to go. She, too, leaned on the stone rail with her eyes scanning the field and listening to the chants of the Easterlings. The biggest dragon leapt onto the stone rail with his claws hooking into the stone. Coruwen ran a hand down the baby's back feeling its great heat beneath her palm. The baby was strong by the way his muscles rippled when he turned his head to look back at her. His eyes pierced her heart for they held a great deal of nobility just from a simple glance.

"That is Freyr," Nerthus introduced from Coruwen's arms. This princess spoke like her mother and appeared like her grandsire. "_Zeymah, pāsiles Coruwen…"_

Freyr turned his gaze fully to her, though now it had softened a great deal. Staring at him, Coruwen saw Ancalagon's unyielding gaze set into a young dragon's eyes. She looked down at Nerthus as the sister locked her ruby red eyes on her brother.

"_Zeymah_," Nerthus admonished with a snap of her tail. The elleth smirked; clearly Nerthus was the eldest daughter and held the power amongst the siblings. Freyr bowed his head to Coruwen in a curt way and then turned his gaze back Freya. Nerthus let out an uncouth curse under her breath that Elathan caught instantaneously, and cocked one eye ridge.

"Never a dull moment," Tauriel laughed in Sindarin. Coruwen cast a simple, forced smile in her friend's direction. This was not the time for lightheartedness, she thought, they could die. She rubbed Nerthus' head gently, trying to quell the anguish in her heart. She shouldn't have taken solace in him! It only deepened her diminished hope of him returning. "Lady Coruwen, are you all right?"

"Nothing is bothering me, Tauriel," Coruwen replied. The red head leaned on the rail, giving her a stern look. The green eyes of Tauriel were fierce, almost sensing her doubt and worry. "It shall not happen again, you know. He is strong – I have told the same to Naruhel." Coruwen glanced over at her, suspicious of her true meaning. She mouthed Himon's name and Coruwen sighed, shaking her head. "I believe in them. I believe that darkness will not take them. After all, I know of the stories of your chosen. And I know of the stories of the son of Calendir, as well."

Coruwen felt heat prick her ears, and she bowed her head to look down at Freyr's little head. She heard Dís chuckle from beside her. She straightened her posture, slightly shifting Nerthus in her arms to better cradle her against her chest.

"Perhaps you are right, Tauriel," Coruwen whispered, shifting her language back to Common Tongue to ease Dís' confusion. She knew the hatred that the dwarves possessed when she spoke Sindarin in front of them. "I suppose my fears come from the past. From Thorin and the boys…"

"Maybe they do, and I remember the king and his sister sons well. They fought well, but that was the past and it must remain behind," Tauriel tapped her fingers on the stone. "However, I am not saying you should not worry, my lady. Deep down, every one of us worries."

"Aye, I worry for my people and for my family that has gone out into this fray," Dís added. Coruwen's lips turned into a rueful smile. "You shouldn't worry so much, Coruwen…"

"I try not to," Her voice seemed to take heed to the air and slip almost unnoticed by her companions – dwarf, dragons, and elf alike. Nerthus swiveled her head to look up at her curiously. "I honestly try not to worry, but it seems that it takes to me as fire takes to air."

"_But not all have had the same experiences as I," _She thought bitterly.

Nerthus seemed to almost read her thoughts and snuggled into her chest like a babe to its mother. Her heart warmed at the black dragon's attempts at child-like solace. She stroked Nerthus' head, tracing the elegantly curved horns with two fingers. Her attention fell on Freya instantly when the dragoness' roar of anguish pierced her heart.

Freya stood amongst the fray of the Easterlings but was being held back by her wings by Khamûl's great fell beast. The serpent bit down on the queen's wings with black blood beginning to ooze from the wounds as she flailed wildly. Her heart tightened as the coil returned to the pit of her stomach almost making her desire to gag.

"Freya!" She screamed, frightening her queen's babies into flight around her. Her heart pounded, her breaths became ragged as she watched Freya writhing with claws raking into the sky and jaws spilling fire in wild arcs. Nothing worked; her roars and body were useless against the fell beast's grip. Khamûl shrieked as he raised his sword into the air and with it the Easterling forces rippled out a word in their tongue. Her blood chilled even though she knew not what the word meant. Khamûl shrieked again and with it the Easterlings' chants followed.

"What does it mean?" Dís asked in horror.

Elathan stirred, landing back on Coruwen's shoulder. She couldn't move, much less command herself to speak or breathe. Her heart seemed to stop and her lungs trapped the air within.

"It means rise," Elathan stated gravely. "They are saying to rise higher."

"Whatever for?"

"They mean for Khamûl to strike her down with the wrath of Sauron as well as the heavens," Tauriel muttered. Coruwen's lungs released their breath as she shivered. Nerthus stirred in her arms, and roared as beat her little voice could.

"No…" Coruwen growled, her fingers digging into Nerthus' foreleg. "No, they will not take her from me."

"How do you plan on getting to her with thousands of Easterlings in your path?" Dís asked. Coruwen shook her head; the words that she had said belonged to her heart. "Coruwen… Now really isn't the time for reckless ideas."

"There is nothing I can do to stop him," Coruwen muttered, her hope diminishing. She watched as the other fell beast bit down on Freya's scruff and forced her to the ground. How could they do this? She was a dragon, and nothing less! Her voice rose, "Freya, get up! Fight it!"

But the chants of the Easterlings grew louder, and hurt her ears. Those that encircled Khamûl fought off every imposing enemy like stone automatons. Each moved as though they were composed of gears without remorse. She couldn't bear it to see Khamûl hovering before great like a shadow with mighty sword drawn and poised to her throat.

She turned away, cradling Nerthus against her chest for the upcoming cry of pain from Freya.

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_Translation: _

_Zeymah: Brother _

_Pasiles: Trust _

**_Please Review! _**


	23. Chapter 23

_**Swords of Flame**_

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Asfaloth trotted alongside the clamoring armies of Dale and Erebor, trying to outpace the men. Ahead of Glorfindel rode Himon and he watched the general for signs of movement as they marched onward toward the moving red and black sea of Rhun men. He had not forgotten the look of clear hurt in his beloved's eyes as she forced him to leave. Her stress had built so high in her body that he had feared that she would shut down at any moment out of simple anxiety.

But he had been wrong before.

His dearest was strong, far stronger than he believed her to be. She had allowed him to see her without any walls around her mind, or even around her heart. He had felt war's terror before, but now it felt as though it were eating at him. He swore to return to her - to return to his dearest love. If that meant that he returned to her fatally wounded then it was the will of the Valar.

Himon halted on an outcropping of rock with the others beginning to take up places beside him. Asfaloth fell into place beside Orophin's horse as the Galadhrim slid the bows from their backs to begin picking off Easterling foes from a distance. They were countless; his eyes tried to count them but failed as the colors ended up mixing together in a sickening swirl.

His eyes trailed up to the city of Dale with its walls forced to the ground and majesty crumpled. There, upon the top of the highest tower, sat Khamûl with his ally. From his place on the rock, he could see the defining features of this Nazgûl. His helm appeared to be fashioned of steel that rose in four perfect spires with a decorated eye of amber in the middle similar to that of his lord. At his side, he could see the outlines of a heavy hilted Rhunic blade.

"There is the lord of this rabble," Himon commented dryly. "High upon his rock as though he walks upon water."

"He will have to come down… Eventually," Gilion sighed with his fingers hovering over the taut string of his bow.

Glorfindel's hands curled around Asfaloth's reins as they all started down the outcropping of rock to take on the circle of Easterling encampments. He trusted Thorin and Bard to take care of the Easterling forces before Dale while they took on the variety of assassins and cutthroats that took up camp before the mountain. A seemingly fair trade – cutthroats for soldiers. He had not told Coruwen of this decision; however, seeing as him simply leaving had troubled her so. He could not get her out of his head for the life of him, the look of diminishing hope in her eyes and the coldness she had given to him.

"You seem distracted," A voice said. Instantly, he snapped out of his thoughts but found that Rumil was inferring to Himon. The Mirkwood general cast a look of displeasure back at the Galadhrim as he had clearly struck a nerve. "What is on your mind, little general?"

"Nothing that concerns nosy Galadhrim, that's what," Himon snapped back. The tension in Glorfindel's muscles relaxed a bit when he found that Coruwen's youngest uncle was no longer making any references to him. Granted, that was not to say that others were not scrutinizing him.

"I believe you hit a nerve, Rumil," Gilion jested, spurring his horse ahead of the group a bit. Now, Glorfindel took that little action in and found it to be irrational. Playing in the open with men of the shadows nearby was never a good idea. "Do it again."

Himon snorted and pulled alongside Asfaloth, keeping pace with him. Under his breath, Himon whispered a curse to which Glorfindel heard but made no mention. Mirkwood elves are proud, more so than the Noldorin in some cases, he reflected. When a roar shook the air, the group stopped to peer up to the heavens. The earth quaked and the cries of men caused him to look over the battle that now stood a dreadful stand-still.

For in the midst of the Easterling ranks stood Freya with amber eyes alit with battle's fire. Glorfindel had encountered dragons in battle before, but none quite frightened him as much as the daughter of Ancalagon did in this very moment. She was snarling so deep and loud that the air shivered with fear, her tail cracked like a whip to part the men at her back. She was the essence of fire and hatred – a true dragon. She roared and from her maw she channeled amber fire to dance for her enemies before they sang to her with their choked out voices. He stood in awe and horror of Freya's might before him as she split the imposing army by nearly half.

Rumil whistled low, shaking his head. "I think we have the upper hand now."

"No kidding," Himon whispered flatly. "You have seen dragons before; have you not, Lord Glorfindel?"

He managed a slow nod, the heat of Freya's fire radiating many miles away from him. "But none have come close to the one before us," He replied, turning Asfaloth toward the cutthroat camps. "Come, we have men to take care of."

The others remained silent aside from their horses snorting in protest to the sudden movement. As they neared an imposing camp, Asfaloth's ears flicked back to the noises around him. Glorfindel leaned forward, giving the stallion a pat on the neck to comfort him. His horse did not heed his master's comfort however, and refused to budge when Glorfindel tapped his sides to move onward. If Asfaloth feared to move onward, then he would oblige and dismount without further prodding.

"What is the matter?" Gilion asked as Glorfindel slid from Asfaloth's back. He held up a hand to silence the Chief Marchwarden as the trees whispered high above them. The muffled sounds of the others dismounting meant to him that they caught on to the sounds of the Easterling shadow-men nearby. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Galadhrim slip into the ferns with hoods drawn and bows at the ready.

"With me," Himon hissed on the other side of the path as he disappeared around a corner. He reached Himon's side and found that he was sitting directly above a canvas tent that more than likely held the shadow-men. Himon gave him a quizzical sideways glance. He barely had a chance to respond to said gesture when Himon whistled, drawing the attention of the men below. His hand leapt to his sword as the men began shouting in the tongue of Rhun that sounded like orders.

One appeared around the bend, dagger drawn, and leapt at him. His sword cracked against the man's chest, tearing away the mixture of leather and cloth to leave a bloodied scar in its wake. The Easterling's eyes were dark with malice as he glared up at him with dagger pressed against Glorfindel's sword. With all of his weight, Glorfindel pushed the man off of his blade to swipe at him. The blade nicked the shadow-man's collarbone but knocked him off-balance.

His blood stirred; the fire of battle beginning to kindle old memories. It drove him, drove him to take the initiative and let his blade taste blood instead of playing around like he was. He side-stepped the dagger that swung blindly at him to grab a hold of the man's arm and twist it behind his back. The man quivered like a leaf with fear, yet his heart felt no remorse for letting his blade sink into the flesh of this man. They had committed crimes thousands of times and knew the price, he thought.

He released the man, letting him fall in a heap at his feet with a painted face of horror. Himon's grunt of force drew his gaze. The general had a far nimbler man as his enemy, and his blows were not quick enough to grab a hold of him to take him. Glorfindel darted forward, catching the lithe frame of the shadow-man beneath his blade. The man's cry of surprise pleased the beast that stirred his blood. Himon's blade crashed down on the back of the man's skull and pushed him further down on Glorfindel's blade until his entire being became limp.

"_That_ was your plan?" Glorfindel asked in disbelief, glaring at Himon. "Are you mad?"

Himon pinched the air until his fingers they were a hair breadth away from the other. "Little bit," Himon laughed. "Of course, all the best people are just a tad bit off."

"I can agree with that logic, but still – we could have gotten killed!" Glorfindel replied, his voice rising without much effort. Himon nudged the fallen shadow-man, tapping his body to make sure it was dead. Sighing, he banked the fires of battle and concern in his body. "How many of these camps are there?"

"Four shadow-men camps, the others are slave encampments that more than likely hold the people of Dale and Esgaroth that did not make it into Erebor," Himon sheathed his sword and then leapt over the edge of the rocks. Glorfindel did the same, internally regretting putting trust into the Mirkwood general. He would lose what little trust Coruwen placed in him if he let Himon run around like a madman – that or she was going to be furious with him for going off to these camps. Either way, his lady was not going to be pleased.

"That was idiotic," Rumil stated, poking his head out of the ferns. "They almost saw us and I heard Glorfindel yell at you. Next time, we try a plan that Phin makes."

Himon rolled his eyes, placing his hand on his hip. "Fine, do whatever pleases you," The general grumbled.

In the distance, he heard the chanting of the Easterlings that seemed to swell with power. His heart dropped when Freya's heart wrenching roar split the air. He shared at look of worry with Orophin before he started toward the edge of the rocks. Freya stood, with wings pinned back and jaws arcing with amber fire in rage as she flailed blindly in the jaws of Khamûl's beast.

"What in the world?" Orophin whispered as the Easterlings rapped their spears against the ground to create an unbearable thrum. "What are they saying?"

"I would not know," Glorfindel said with a shake of his head. "But they are clearly encouraging Khamûl to kill her." He wished to stop it, to strike down Khamûl where he stood. But there was not a single power he possessed that would stop the Nazgûl. He could only stand and watch as Freya howled in pain when the beast rose into the air with Khamûl brandishing a sword in the direction of the female.

His voice clung to his lungs as Khamûl's beast surged forward to strike her. In a flash of green and snarls, the silver beast tumbled down to the ground with Khamûl falling from the beasts back. Standing over Freya was Heimdall, who was fiercer than his mate. He had seen Heimdall – a great, gentle beast – now standing over his mate with lips pulled back in a wicked grin of malice and body hovering low over Freya. The fell beast lolled up with a severe wound upon its fleshy neck.

The beast swiveled its head and struck at Heimdall, but it merely bounced off of his thick hide allowing the male to bite down on the beast's head. And with an ear deafening crack – crushed the beast's skull.

"We need to go, the shadow-men have caught wind of our coming," Rumil shouted. Glorfindel turned but held his gaze on Heimdall as he stood over his broken mate. They all made their way toward the outlying camps, striking down every Easterling they saw that challenged them. Asfaloth and the others horses met their masters on the edge of the last camp and carried them to the edge of the slave camps.

"Each of us will take a slave camp, and take care of the slaves within each camp. If we run into trouble, send your horse to the closet camp and hide," Gilion instructed. He nodded, clicking his tongue for Asfaloth to move along.

The camps sat on the edge near Esgaroth, and appeared to be silent to his eyes. The tents were made of sun bleached leather, and full of holes that appeared to be made from burns or swords. The camp was motionless as though time stood still here instead of following with the rest of the world. Asfaloth halted on the edge of the camp allowing his master to dismount and take inventory of the camp's dismantled state. Many, many times Glorfindel had seen camps like these, only belonging to orcs, and found only skeletons and people destroyed by madness. Abruptly, he heard the whispers of a child's voice in a mess of cloth.

Approaching the whispers of the child, he swept aside the cloth to reveal a child with ruddy-brown hair and a chubby tear-stained face. He knelt down to the child's level only for the boy to whimper and cringe.

"I will not hurt you, little one," Glorfindel soothed, extending his hand toward the boy. The child's eyes seemed familiar to him – brown ringed with gold. The child looked like one of Bard's siblings by the eye color and facial structure. Hesitantly, the child's body unwound itself from its worry and reached for his hand. He smiled when the child's little hand pressed against the palm of his own. "See? I did not hurt you, did I?"

"No," The boy answered with the shake of his head. "Did – Did Mama send you to find me?"

His anxiety twisted his heart. Bard's mother had fallen into grief and passed sometime after Brand's death. How could he possibly tell a child that his mother had died? The boy's big brown eyes stared up at him innocently, asking for an answer. "Your family has been worried about you, little one. Tell me, I know of your sister and brother, but I do not know your name-,"

"Phillip, or Phil," The boy piped. "Wait, is Bard with you? I wanna see him!"

"Your brother is off defending your home, little Phillip. But I _do_ know that your sister is in the Lonely Mountain," Glorfindel told Phillip as he scooped the boy up. The boy straightened into a rod when his hand pressed against his back. Pulling his hand back, Glorfindel spied blood staining his glove. "Phillip, who did this to you?"

Phillip turned in the lord's arms, pressing his face up against the crook of his neck. "Nasty, funny speaking men. They had this thing that sounded like a storm and it hurt… Really bad," Phillip pulled back, smiling big. "But you're here now, Mister Elf." He started towards Asfaloth while Phillip clung to him. "So, where are we going?" He started towards Asfaloth while Phillip clung to him. "So, where are we going?"

"_You_ are going to go back to Erebor, where you will be safe, little prince," Glorfindel stated. Asfaloth greeted him with a friendly equine snort and then gave him a puzzled look when Phillip reached for him with hands grabbing at the stallion's mane. "This is Asfaloth, he will carry you to the mountain swiftly."

"But won't I fall?"

"Not unless I tell him let you, young one," He set Phillip on his horse's back and then began shortening the stirrups. Asfaloth nudged him impatiently and he raised a hand against the horse's snout. He switched to Sindarin to scold the horse. "No, I will be fine. You take care of him and ride swift, my friend."

"Is he friendly?" Phillip's voice drew him out of his scolding behavior.

His tongue switched back to Common for the child, "Very, he is just being testy, that is all." Glorfindel chuckled, patting the horse's neck. "You know how to ride a horse?"

"A bit, Bard won't let me near some of our horses – they are huge."

He had seen one of the horses of Dale, they were work horses with large, feathered feet and broad shoulders. It made sense that Phillip had not ridden one on his own. He whispered for Asfaloth to ride swiftly in the hopes of making it back before the battle possibly took a turn for the worst. Watching, Asfaloth slip into the distance, he turned back to the rest of the encampment and started entering the different tents in the hopes of finding another sign of life.

But his efforts were wasted.

The Easterlings had slain every last hostage with either blades or poison. One woman appeared to have been branded to death, the marks of the six pointed star imprinted upon her back were clear through the thin tunic. Blood mixed with earth beneath his feet causing it to be slick and colored ruddy. The sight of these tortured people made his stomach about turn. One being – for he could tell the gender any longer – was bound to a post with chains around its wrists and ankles with a spearhead through its abdomen. The skin of the being was charred, a cruel mixture of black and red.

"_How could this have happened? Men can be such cruel souls,"_ He thought as he prodded the bound person with the tip of his scabbard. _"These men, women, and children all had lives – were innocent even!" _

A rock tumbled down from the slope behind him, drawing his attention. It was nothing, nothing for than the wind causing rocks to tumble down a bit. Still, the thrum of the spears and roar of the dragons nearby beat in his ears. He continued to search the tents with his nerves dancing in his spine. He picked up a thorn-laced whip and tossed it aside. His blood chilled for brief moment when other bits of rock tumbled down to the ground in a small crack. His body was on edge, silently fearing if something was about to jump out at him.

Again rocks tumbled down from the cliff above and that finally drew his attention. The rocks were untouched as though they had barely moved. Why was he on edge? His eyes narrowed and he shook his head – all of this was a figment of his imagination. Above him, again the rocks stirred and he glanced up instantly to catch sight of an Easterling archer situated high on the slope. His body tensed up in shock as the archer drew back an arrow. The beast of war awakened in an instant, and screamed at him for him to move before that arrow caught him. And he heeded the calling of this beast to dart towards the archer just as the arrow whistled past him to land in the dirt in a heavy thump. He managed to climb up onto the same level as the archer, only for the archer to back up and pull back a third arrow.

The Easterling cursed when Glorfindel nicked him with his blade. The archer grabbed a hold of his forearm, gripping the damasked gauntlet in one gloved hand before the quick unsheathing of a dagger's ring met his ears. Hot pain lanced through his side and the archer backed away, letting Glorfindel drop. However, he was not to let the archer win. He raised his blade, letting it slice through the archer's hand, which gave little resistance and then gave him grief when he cut the paper-like skin that guarded the neck.

"_She is never going to forgive me,"_ He inwardly lamented as he gripped the dagger at his side. The dagger clattered to the ground, his hand covered in a mixture of the archer's and his own blood. The pain shocked his system when air touched the wound despite him covering it with his hand. A shout drew his attention over to a spearman that leapt over the side of the ledge. He withdrew his hand from his injured side, gripping the hilt of his sword to stand.

"_Forgive me, dearest," _He thought as the spearman bounded towards him.

~.~.~

Pain… She hurt, could not fly and she could only hear the rumbles of Heimdall above her. Her vision blurred in and out with mixing colors of silver and green making her sick. She could feel every prickle of pain with her wings beginning to throb with pain. By the Mother, she hated that Nazgul! Her chest was heaving, her breath short. Desperately, she wanted to call out to Heimdall to be rid of this beast. She didn't wish to leave her babies for they needed her and they needed him.

"You shall not touch her!" Heimdall's voice rang out as his tail cracked the air like a whip. Inwardly, she smiled. But it was short lived by the sound of the Nazgul's devious chuckle made Heimdall's growl even deeper. "You should be hung up by your scales!"

"Do not come between the beast and his prey, little dragon," Khamul taunted, as the beast shivered. Her mate's rage struck several heartstrings in her own heart as his great form lashed out at the Nazgul with enough power to overthrow its rider. Her vision cleared enough to see Heimdall clearly now. His broad shoulders rippled with power as he hefted the war-scarred beast into his jaws and ripped – ripped the fish like spines from its back with blood seeping from the wounds.

"Nothing more than a usurper and tool!"Heimdall shouted, tossing aside the bloody spines. "It should be I that is calling you petty and foolish. However, there is no curse or soul name in any language that I know of that defines a creature that would harm my Fire-Scales. And as punishment," The king crushed his mount's skull with his paw. "I will smite you down or at least watch…"

A hand pressed against her nose, a small, calloused hand. Her eyes focused on a short person and then a far taller, lankier one. Warm brown eyes, ringed with gold, stared up at her curiously. And beside him, stood Thorin Stonehelm.

She let out a purr, nuzzling the lord's hand gently. Bard smirked; removing his hand from her snout to slide off the bow of his Great-Grandfather off of his back. She had remembered that bow well, that bow's arrow struck down her firestone, her eldest baby. Her chest quivered as her pain began to cloud her eyes.

"Well, Khamul is no usurper, but he is a traitor and killer of innocents," Bard commented in mock thought. "He has killed thousands of my people…"

"And my father along with many of my kin," Thorin added. Freya let out another purr of contentment as her vision faded into darkness as her pain doubled causing her stomach to turn and her muscles into liquid. And she listened, listened to the sounds of her mate, Bard, and Thorin bear the right of challenge against Khamul. Her hearing was the next thing that faltered into muffled crashes of steel and curses.

* * *

**A/N: So, the final chapter for the Siege is going to be either tomorrow or the next day, depending if I can get off of my lazy butt and finish it.. Plus, life threw me a curve ball so that may or may not prohibit my work flow. **

**Anyway, reviews with thoughts, ideas, predictions, or just some words? **


	24. Chapter 24

**Music Suggestion: Severus and Lily from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 **

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_**Rain**_

* * *

Fire surged into the sky, caressing the heavens like a long forgotten lover. The world was purged black, smelling of copper and smoke. The mingled scents clung to humid air and then seemed to cling to her skin. She had not left her place on the wall as it allowed her to watch Heimdall fight Khamûl's allies that either flew at him from the heavens or bit at his ankles like fleas. The armies had done well; they eliminated large chunks of Easterlings with every pass of the candle. But to her displeasure, she had yet to see any of her kindred. Tauriel had stayed at her side faithfully while Dís had gone off to check on her kindred after Freya had fallen. Perturbed, Coruwen leaned on the rail heavily with Elathan curled around her shoulders like a neck ruff, his cool breath against her neck. The other dragon siblings had wandered off to, more than likely, bother the dwarves and Lake-Men.

A loud crack and shriek made her straighten, her nerves fired with fear. Tauriel pointed to the origin of the scream, gesturing to Heimdall. The male stood over his mate but his posture had changed – his back no longer arched and his wings tucked back at his sides. Elathan stirred against her neck and she reacted by touching his little head gently.

"Bard, son of Brand, has slain a Nazgûl," Elathan proclaimed with confidence and flap of his wings. Coruwen's heart swelled – Bard was destined for greatness like his Great-Grandfather. A smile of knowing touched her lips when it seemed the world became at ease for a brief second. Tauriel's eyebrows were raised in impression and then smirked slightly.

"I give him credit," Tauriel said with a simple clap of her hands. "The boy has the spirit of a lion."

"As did the man he is named after," Coruwen said in pride. "Bard slew Smaug, and in turn, his descendent would slay a Nazgûl."

"I remember when he fell," Tauriel ran a hand through her hair. "How is Freya doing? I don't have an excellent view from over here."

Coruwen's eyes fell on Freya and her whole soul shivered. Freya's eyes were shut in pain or sleep, but her chest heaved deeply, only hitching once or twice as Coruwen observed her. Her stomach almost turned at the sight of the black blood oozing from her wings and shoulders. Dearly she wished to have prevented that snag. On her neck, Elathan let out a bit of mist from his nostrils. It made her shiver, hugging her sides as she heard the chants of the Easterlings die down into silence.

"What-?" Coruwen whispered as Khamûl rose into the air. Both ellith on the wall hissed out the word, "Coward." As he flew southward, leaving his army behind. Still, the Easterlings fought on, but they became less. Many fell to ally blades, dropping to their knees because of arrows, becoming pierced in the heart by spears. She leaned on the rail heavier, playing with the tip of Elathan's tail as it wound around her finger as though content. Despite the past's doubt, her heart was beginning to lighten with pleasure and confidence at each Easterlings' defeat.

"I said it once and I shall say it again, when did we ever let darkness control us?" Tauriel said with a small smile. Coruwen glanced over at the other elleth, shifting her weight onto her heels to straighten her back.

"Darkness never will, I suppose," Coruwen noted in thought. Tauriel's green eyes sparkled with pride. Coruwen, in her heart, could feel the great change between earlier and now. How could she have doubted herself? She was now chiding herself for being so pessimistic. "And having dragons to light the path to victory never hurt any…"

Tauriel chuckled, "No, no it never did, my lady." Her companion walked to the other side of her, giving Elathan a gentle pat on the head. "What are you going to do about Freya? She cannot fly with a broken wing."

"No, I will have to soothe her enough to allow others to bind that wing." Coruwen reached back, stroking Elathan's chin. "My opal, tell me, how fast do dragons heal?"

"I would have to ask Zorya, lady. But I suppose quite fast considering that she has fallen numerous times while learning how to fly." Elathan replied tentatively, his tail tickling her ear as he spoke. She giggled and mushed his tail out of her way. Coruwen turned to start down the steps of the wall when a nervous chirp drew her gaze. Elathan's head snapped back in the direction of the noise. "Oh, how pleasant, according to the ravens, the army of the East is falling rather swiftly."

"Good, I need to prepare to heal the injured when they return, so off with you," Coruwen insisted, looking up at the baby on her shoulder. Elathan's teal eyes blinked curiously and then he lifted into the air to follow the raven overhead. Tauriel joined her side as she made her way toward the sickbay. She found Naruhel folding various sheets inside of the large hall, but stopped when she slipped through the door. "Naruhel, the armies shall soon be returning and-,"

"I know," Naruhel answered automatically, whirling around to place the sheets into a basket. Coruwen's jaw slightly dropped, yet she kept her mouth shut. Naruhel smiled with her brown eyes flicking up as she tucked various needles into a pincushion. "I poked my head up to the wall earlier. And if it wasn't enough, Khamûl could be heard all the way down here."

"I see," Coruwen said at last, gaining her voice back. "I do not know how many will be returning injured, but there must not be many for I stayed up there long enough to count."

"Possibly just cuts and arrows."

Naruhel hummed a song as she smoothed out her rumpled skirts and straightened her posture. Even if she was but a healer, she had the pride and nobility of a Mirkwood elf. A surprised shriek made Coruwen jump. Looking back at Tauriel, Coruwen saw that Freyr and his siblings had decided to take up post on Tauriel's body. Nerthus and Elathan sat on her shoulders, Zorya on her head, and Freyr around her feet.

Coruwen narrowed her eyes and put her hands on her hips, "Off with you, shoo!" She motioned with her hands and Freyr let out a roar with sparks of dark gold flame escaping his throat as he did so. Tauriel stood motionless, frozen in pure terror as Zorya played with her hair by wrapping it around her talons. _"Away, now!" _

Instantly, the dragons let out hisses in a rebuke towards her. Though Coruwen knew how to deal with dragons and their stubborn fires. She took stock of the room; various white linens, herbs left out to dry, and then bloodied rags that had been used to bind wounds. Albeit disgusting, the bloodied linen would be enough to even seduce a rabid wolf – and thus Coruwen grabbed one and whistled. The babies' gazes snapped to her as she tossed it in the direction far from Tauriel. They let out a shrill shriek of excitement, each diving for the rag and tumbling in a mess of leathery wings and scales to see which could get the rag.

Tauriel let out a silent breath, her terror diminishing. Coruwen gestured toward her hair that had been pulled free of its intricate braids on the top of her head. Her hands wildly began to pull at the braids until they were loose. Coruwen left the great hall and climbed back up to the wall as the coil from earlier returned to her stomach.

Looking out to the great plain, she could identify each army by their banners. The Easterlings stood on the edge of Dale's borders, fending off their assailants. Pain bloomed in the back of her mind which drew her attention from the battlefield. She cradled her forehead in her hand to try to stop it, but it never yielded. She squeezed her eyes shut to try to block out the pain and focus on the battlefield, yet it continued. She could feel her features twisting into a grimace as the pain spread in a wide arch across her skull like it were burning.

"_What is this?"_ She asked herself, leaning onto the rail to brace herself as her body lagged. Opening her eyes granted her pain as the dwindling light caused her vision to blur.

"Coruwen?" Nerthus' voice chimed in front of her. Her little voice grated on her sensitive ears. Coruwen worried her lower lip. "Monah is sharing her pain… I can feel it as well."

She managed to open her eyes to look down at Nerthus, who was curled around her feet with her tiny body tense. Coruwen bent down, stroking Nerthus' head as the pain rocketed down her spine. Above them, a fell beast roared and was shortly followed by a Nazgûl's scream. Nerthus leapt up into her arms and gave a shrill roar of her own in defense.

"Nerthus, no, do not anger it," Coruwen admonished as the pain from Freya shortened her breath and made her body ache. Glancing back at Heimdall, Coruwen saw that he, too, was in pain by the way his back was arched and muscles taut. Behind her the Nazgûl screamed again and she whirled around to face it. By the helm and sword, Coruwen knew it was Khamûl. She darted away as the fell beast lunged at her with its talons. She took up a hiding place in the archway, her body seeming to fatigue as she slumped against the archway.

"I am sorry, Coruwen," Nerthus murmured into her chest. Coruwen stroked the dragon's snout with two fingers. "If you want, I can get rid of this… That thing."

"It is a Nazgûl, and I forbid you from going anywhere near it – you're too small." Coruwen heard the wind beat against the fell beast's wings as it hovered in the air. A whistle from below her drew her gaze. Tauriel stood at the base of the stairs aiming up toward the sound of the Nazgûl. Her companion jerked her head to the side as she started up the stairs with her eyes still held on the beast. "Go, Nerthus, down."

The dragon leapt down and dove down to the lowest floor and then dropped. She held the Nazgûl's fathomless gaze, her own gaze stern as Tauriel brushed up against her. Coruwen flicked her gaze over to Tauriel once to catch the glimpse of her testing her bowstring. She silently prayed that her friend would hurry as the Nazgûl made her nearly crumple down to the ground in fear. Blood pulsed so loud in her ears that it drowned out the sound of the fell beast's wings. Despite her fears, she held her self tall before the creature as it stared at her.

Tauriel pivoted and swung into view of the beast, losing her arrow into the chest of beast. The arrow met its mark and caused the beast to rear back with a howl of pain. Khamûl reined the creature in, diverting its attention away from the arrow to fly off and out of sight. When he passed out of sight, Coruwen tumbled down to the ground, shaking.

"What in the world is the matter?" Tauriel asked quietly, parting her hair to allow her to look up at her. Curious and concerned green eyes stared down at her as her stomach almost turned as the shared pain from Freya doubled once more. She shook her head, averting her eyes from the other elleth. "It was that Nazgûl wasn't it?"

She managed a nod, "I have always had adverse reactions to Sauron and his ilk."

Tauriel gently slid her arms around her in a tight embrace. "But that is not all, is it, my lady?"

Coruwen wound her fingers into her sleeves. "Freya… She… I can feel… everything."

Tauriel's eyes widened but then her shocked expression fell instantly. On her head, Coruwen felt her friend's hand. "What can I do?"

"Just… Stay," Coruwen shut her eyes. She took each pulsation of pain as best she could by deepening her breathing and letting the darkness swarm around her. She eventually was awakened by the sound of armor and rattling chains. She bolted upright; still feeling sickened by Freya's pain. Tauriel had remained by her side to the point where she had begun dreaming awake. Gently, Coruwen nudged her friend awake.

"Is something the matter, my lady?" Tauriel whispered, shaking her head free of sleep's web. Coruwen pulled herself up, her hands gripping the obsidian stone to allow her to see further into Erebor's depths. A wave of humid, coppery air hit her in the face and she recoiled.

"Is it over?" Coruwen murmured, looking back to her companion. Tauriel crossed her legs with her hands on her knees. "Tauriel… Is it done?"

"Yes, yes it is…" Tauriel responded. Coruwen's heart released every tie that had bound her to doubt. Casting a thankful look back at Tauriel, she spread her palm across the cool stone. "However, there were countless casualties. Bard and Thorin luckily remained unscathed aside from the poison from the Nazgûl's spirit." She raised an eyebrow as Tauriel hesitated for a moment. "But we could not find Himon, Rumil, or Glorfindel…"

Coruwen turned around to fully face Tauriel, catching the glimpse of graveness in her friend's features. "What do you mean, could not find?"

Tauriel began worrying her bottom lip, "We did find them when we went out to search for our company…"

"Where did they go exactly?"

The clear sign of regret passed across Tauriel's face, yet she held her head high. Coruwen, too, was not going to let them slip away. A steely heartstring in her heart was struck, one that cast aside the pain from Freya.

"The camps of the Shadow-Men…"

"What?!" Tauriel physically flinched at her risen voice. "How could you let them go with this knowledge at your disposal?"

"I never knew – not until Orophin returned and told me."

She whirled around and started down the steps. She heard Tauriel scrambling after her, but in her soul – her very being – everything was ablaze with emotion. She brushed past the men of both Men and Dwarves, trying to find Ithil or a horse to guide her down to the camps.

"Coruwen!"

Nerthus and Tauriel, she thought.

Tauriel skidded beside her, gripping her wrist. "Do not do this! You cannot go!"

"And what makes you think that will stop me?" Coruwen said shortly. "Those are our kindred, Tauriel. I cannot and will not allow them to die or be left to rot out in these lands."

"Please, think of what you're doing..."

"I did," Coruwen turned her gaze to Tauriel, who despite her steely outward appearance seemed to turn meek for a moment. "Nothing you say is going to stop me from finding them. Am I clear?"

"Very, my lady."

"Good – go help Naruhel in whatever way you can. If I do not return soon, send Elathan out."

Coruwen started down the ledges, and an equine snort drew her gaze. Below her was Asfaloth and Himon's mare. She narrowed her eyes, letting herself drop down to Asfaloth's side. The stallion bumped her shoulder in greeting. Blood flecked his snowy coat and the same for the mare. She extended her hand out for Asfaloth in silent permission. He turned and threw her head back in gesture to her.

"Good boy, Asfaloth," She whispered, mounting onto the stallion. Reaching back, she grabbed the mare's reins and tied them to a loop in the straps on the saddle. "Ride on, my friend."

Asfaloth rode on, past the skirt of the mountain and into the small patch of trees. The forest reeked of blood, and the sloshing beneath Asfaloth's hooves only reminded her of the Battle of Five Armies. The same sound, yet without the disfigured bodies of many races. She shook her head, how could it come to this? She looked up to see a canvas tent sitting idly in the clearing of this forest. Asfaloth stopped at the edge, snorting in anxiety as she dismounted him.

Her eyes began searching, combing the area for a sign of life or flash of hair color that was familiar. The ground stuck to her boots, the familiar stickiness of mud and blood together, the scent in the air, all of it was too familiar. A raspy cough drew her attention. She ran in the direction of the sound, and parted the side of the tent. Amongst a few dead Lake-Men, she found Rumil. He was bound to a wooden post with his silver hair colored by the blood that had dried on the side of his face. She could have sworn that she saw other wounds, more fatal ones on his chest. Kneeling down, she moved aside strands of his hair to cup his face in her hands.

"Rumil?" She whispered. Grief rolled her chest, when his grey eyes seemed to be unblinking. "Uncle, come back to me, please." She stroked his face, but she bit the inside of her cheek hard to keep herself in check. "Uncle, I need you to speak to me, please… Rumil, I beg of you."

She gave him a hard shake, yet his eyes saw the unseen. She ran her fingers across his face; still she could feel his pulse beneath her hand – ever so faintly. It was slowly fading, trickling away like water in one's hands. Moving aside his cloak, she saw arrow heads lodged in his chest and the cloth of the Marchwardens torn by –no doubt – a sword.

"Uncle? Please, please do not die… Not now." She whispered, lightly kissing his forehead. She moved to his bound hands, and thankfully found them only restrained by rope. Using her knife, she cut them, then stood to carry Rumil over to Asfaloth. The stallion trotted over to her with a bay gelding following. The gelding kneeled to allow her to place Rumil on his back. "Take him back to the mountain… and be quick." The gelding snorted and turned around to start off with her uncle on his back.

Asfaloth and the mare came to her, and then took her to another encampment. Above her, the heavens thundered.

"_Time repeats itself,"_ She thought gravely as she slid down to the ground.

This camp was situated closer to the mountain's edge with a ledge high above. She heard Asfaloth whinny nervously behind her. Casting a look back, she found him standing at the edge of the ledge with his focus held upward. Her heart dropped out of her chest.

Climbing up the ledge, she found a trail of blood pooling nearby. She flinched when a drop of rain hit her head. Steadily, it began to rain. It rained to obscure her vision of the blood, and to remind her, possibly. She followed the blotchy red marks to a fallen Easterling archer with a silvery sword beside his fallen form. By the hilt, it was no Easterling or Orc sword. There were wings crafted into the hilt of the sword with a sun in its middle. She picked up the sword, and tucked it against her side, trying to find the owner. Not too far away, she found a bloodied dagger and then a halberd. She touched the halberd with her foot, noting that blood was only on the tip of the blade and marred with blackish-grey color. Her gaze traveled up from the halberd to silver. Silver armor, now painted red.

She darted over him, moving aside the spearman to look at his form. He was broken. Gold hair colored ruddy from the roots down, face pale like her uncle's, and armor splintered. A clear gash on his side came from the dagger, and the other wound was more than likely caused by the halberd. Thankfully, she heard his breathing.

"Glorfindel, can you hear me?" Coruwen whispered, tilting his face up. His eyes were the color of a stormy sea. She moved aside wet strands of her own hair as he looked at her, the connection not seeming to come to him. "Love, it will be all right." Turning back, she whistled for Asfaloth. She heard his whinny of reply yet she could not take her eyes of him.

"C-Coruwen?" He rasped. She smiled faintly, standing and then easing a hand around his waist. He had enough sense to put an arm around her shoulders, but then walking became a challenge for the both of them.

She hushed him when he tried to speak again, and assured him. "You will be fine."

Asfaloth met them on a much higher ledge that had a slope. The stallion nudged Glorfindel and he hissed in pain casing his horse to snort. Coruwen sent the horse a warning look as she helped Glorfindel onto Asfaloth's back.

"Asfaloth, be swift," She ordered, patting his hind quarters. The horse started back up the slope in a fast walk.

She finally rode the mare to the last encampment. Looking up into the trees, she saw Himon strung up by his wrists and bound in chains. It was as if she was staring at a ghost of the general rather than the one that was made of flesh. His armor – all ready colored dark – made it hard for her to find wounds on his person from her place on the ground. She gained a foothold in the tree and swung up high to begin fiddling with the lock on Himon's chains. When the lock refused to budge, she sighed in irritation.

"There must be a key," She whispered. However, there were at least a dozen men dead in the clearing. She balanced the knife in her hand and jimmied it into the lock and the smacked the end of the knife. She smiled at the sound of the lock's click of freedom, but paused and frowned when a loud thump was heard. Himon lay on the ground in a heap. "Oh dear…"

She climbed back down, and ran her hands across Himon's body, searching for wounds. One of his legs was twisted in an odd direction. The same could be said for his right arm. She picked him up and swung him up onto the back of his horse. The mare wheeled around, starting back to Erebor like the rest of her companions. She turned her face up to the sky, letting the rain slid down her face.

All of this… All of this was a great memory. Possibly a dream, a terrible awful dream that she hoped to wake from. It was just like that day, all those years ago, where blood ran like water, loved ones were slaughtered, and she was left to stand in the rain once again.

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**Please Review? **


	25. Chapter 25

_Translation Guide: _

_Krosis: Apologizes _

_Zeymah: Brother _

_Briinah: Sister _

_Briinah, dreh Fahliil-Fahdon alok?: Sister, does our Elf-Friend arise? _

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_**Conflagration and Radiance**_

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The rain never ceased, for the time Coruwen returned to Erebor, her clothes were soaked through. She had returned without a horse, body shivering, and heart troubled. The great statues of the Dwarven warriors greeted her on her ascension up to the gates. Aged copper and rock were covered in a sheen of water with most dripping down onto the ground. She slipped into Erebor through the gates and was hit by the sound of Freya's anguished roar. In an instant, she remembered Freya – Freya fell. Her limbs seemed to be locked to the ground as she started toward Freya's roar.

Before her – surrounded by her babies and several healers – lay Freya, great chest heaving and body rigid. She started down the stairs, coming to wrap her arms around the lower part of Freya's snout. The dragoness cracked open her eyes, the iris dim with her inner fire banked so low that one could barely notice it.

"Freya, forgive me… Please, please forgive me," Coruwen whispered. She tightened her grip with each word. Oddly, something struck her that she never thought possible for a fire dragon in that very moment. Freya was cold, cold like the rain that poured outside. "I should not have let you go… I-I was wrong…"

"Dear one," Heimdall's voice startled her and she almost released her grip on Freya. Heimdall looked down at her, a pitiful look glowing in his eyes. His scales gleamed in the light and darkened the shadows that hung underneath his eyes. He was a mountain, a great, emerald mountain. "Let our Fire-Scales sleep… She needs it. And moreover, there are people who need you." Heimdall paused, taking a steady breath. "_Krosis…_ Freya… Her pain is quite high, you see. Anyway, I will send Nerthus and Elathan with you."

"Heimdall…" Coruwen said softly, releasing Freya and walked up to him to extend her hand out. "Thank you."

"_Geh,_ the same to you, little elf." He gave her a nod and against her calf, she felt a nudge. Looking down, she found two sets of eyes looking up at her. She stooped, gathering both babies in her arms before starting off to find someone.

Eventually, she found Dís speaking to Bofur and Thorin outside of the wall's entrance. Bofur removed the pipe from his mouth upon seeing her, and gave her a slight bow of his head. The toymaker was – and always will be – the one who made the world seem less dark. His dark eyes narrowed in confusion as she stopped at the base of the steps with Nerthus and Elathan asleep in her arms.

"Look what the dragon dragged in," Bofur said with a smile. She raised her eyebrows to the comment, only vaguely catching his tease. He grinned, placing the pipe in between his teeth as Dís smacked his shoulder. "I'm kidding!" Coruwen could not help but smile – that reaction seemed all too familiar. The toymaker shifted back on his heels. "But, she does look sorrier than a wet cat. In fact, were you playing in the rain?"

"Not playing exactly," She replied, shifting her gaze slowly to Dís. "You would not happen to possibly-?"

"Follow me – Bofur, Thorin, don't touch anything that looks breakable," Dís said, descending down the steps.

"It was one time and I don't even know how you remember that!" Thorin growled, crossing his arms. Dís shot him a scolding look over her shoulder and he slumped back. Coruwen found it odd that even Dain, and his son, feared her. Coruwen followed the princess down to a series of rooms, all of which were silent aside from the clicking of their boots on the floor.

"We have started taking care of the ones you sent back," Dís started, opening a door to an open room that was dimly lit by the fire in a hearth. "Your younger uncle was badly poisoned, but it seems that his brother and Lady Naruhel were able to stabilize him. The general has the Lady Healer with him, and…" Dís' hands hovered over a dresser, and then sighed. "And the one you care for… He… He has fallen cold and grey."

Coruwen frowned, "Glorfindel would not fade, it is impossible."

Dís shrugged, and then pulled out a dress from the dresser. "Well, Tauriel promised me she wouldn't leave him until you came back. And seeing as this is merely a repeat of my brother's death, I knew you were going to be a while."

"Dís… Why it is that every time a battle comes, you and I seem to suffer?" Coruwen placed the dragons on the fur blankets that lay on the bed before starting to shed her wet clothes. Dís smiled ruefully, shaking her head. Coruwen had seen Dís all those years ago standing beside Dain as the dwarves from the Iron Hills placed Thorin and the boys down in the old Hall of Thror. She tore away from the old memory, and finally settled into the dress and moved her wet clothes over to the hearth. "With any luck, Glorfindel will be all right."

"Stop doubting yourself – he'll be fine. He did not suffer the same fate as some of our deceased, nor will he ever. He is strong, I have seen it." Dís assured her, patting her upper arm as they stepped out of the room. Coruwen let out a long breath as Elathan curled around her shoulders and Nerthus leapt up into her arms. "I will not trouble you any longer, my friend. His room is all the way down the hall. You cannot miss it, Tauriel's outside."

She gave a nod to Dís, a most grateful nod. Against her neck, Elathan curled his little head, blowing a bit of cool mist against her skin. Her whole body shivered as she started down the hall. In a shadow sat Tauriel, sharpening one of her knives.

"Coruwen, he is-," Tauriel started, but quickly let her voice falter. "I think he is fading. He is ashen and cold."

She shook her head, refusing to believe it. "No, he will not fade." She took a deep breath, her heart beginning to shudder with agony. Tauriel tilted her head to the side in curiosity. "I plan on not leaving him until he at least surfaces." Her companion's face twisted into one of shock and utter confusion. Her voice took a slightly sharp edge, "If our roles were reversed, he would do the same for me. In fact, when I have fallen, he was there to sit beside me. I think it is time I start repaying him for all of the times I have faltered."

Tauriel pursed her lips, sheathing her knife. She clearly was thinking. Coruwen placed her hand on the door handle when Tauriel spoke once again.

"Do you want me to stay out here, or come with you?"

Coruwen turned an eye back to her. "Check up on my uncles, please… I found Rumil in a deplorable state and… And if Glorfindel was not in the current state he's in, I would go."

"Of course, my lady," Tauriel dipped her head and stood, picking up her feet to travel down the hall.

~.~.~

Tauriel slipped through the crack in the door. She felt terrible, physically and spiritually. The sight of her kindred torn down by a mere battle seemed unreal to her. She, however, had seen her fair share of battles but none such as this. Perhaps she was merely frightened? No, she wasn't, she knew that much. Sauron, orcs, the creatures of darkness, all of this that made this war possible was the very thing that troubled her.

Looking into the room, she saw the very idea that disturbed her. Rumil lay in a motionless state, his face almost the same color as his hair. Thankfully, most of his wounds were covered by the furs and sheets, yet there were shadows from the fire that made him appear even graver.

"Tauriel?" A voice asked from the corner. She stopped herself from whirling around so quickly to face Orophin's voice. She had barely noticed him. Her eyes searched the darkened corner and only found a stray lock of his hair. "What are you doing in here?"

"Your niece wanted me to assure that the two of you were all right," Tauriel replied automatically, letting her features and body relax. Slowly, she saw him stand and remove his hood. "Are you all right?"

"I am, yes," Orophin answered with a solemn sigh, Stress has etched itself into his features in the short hours that his brother had returned. Tauriel noted how he had kept a silent vigil for his brother, as though hoping that Rumil would surface. "Rumil, on the other hand…"

Tauriel shifted her weight onto her heels for a moment, glancing back at the fallen brother. "I-I have faith that he will make it out of this," She touched a lock of her hair, avoiding the gaze that Orophin had on her. "They will all make it out of this."

A humorless chuckle ensued, "That is what we can hope, no?" He settled back into his chair, draping an arm across the back. His steely eyes never left her face after that. Tauriel had learned that the eldest brother before her was the calmest one, and the younger the one more apt to make reckless decisions. "Am I under the assumption that Coruwen will not be leaving Glorfindel's side?"

Tauriel nodded, and he shook his head. "Is there something wrong?"

"No… No, I just worry for her." Tauriel eased down to the floor, sitting with her legs crossed and back up against one of the bed posts. She watched Orophin intently, the way his features fell as he cradled his head in one hand. "Coruwen – well you know about this. She lost someone close to her on a day like this one. The emotional stress that she gains in such a short while sometimes shocks me. She outright refuses to let anyone in, even those who are her own blood."

"She is secretive."

Orophin sat back, looking past her to his brother. "I suppose, though I do not understand why. Why hide from us? I love my niece, and all I want to do is help her."

Tauriel remained silent, inwardly agreeing with him. The entire time the battle had gone on, Coruwen remained stoic aside from when Freya had been taken down.

"I think that Thorin Oakenshield broke her."

She frowned, glancing up at him. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Haldir - my middle brother and the one who was tasked with Coruwen's protection – told me that the day he found her with the Elvenking that she was not his daughter anymore. She had changed. And now I am seeing that which my brother spoke of – her changes. Now, I am so confused -,"

"I knew that you spoke with Lord Glorfindel about a few things. Did he not enlighten you? I know that she often confides in him, tells him things that not even Lord Celeborn knows of." Orophin nodded slowly and she leaned forward, bracing her hands on her knees. "I saw her change in the battle for this mountain. She took a face, a stoic face – not the one of the sort of kind hearted elleth that she normally is. She remained quiet the entire time, only crying out for Freya."

He sighed, looking away to the flickering candles that sat idly in one corner. "Glorfindel told me that there is something inside of her that has yet to break loose. And I think that something is the memory of King Oakenshield and his sister sons. Yes, Coruwen confides in Glorfindel, but there are some things not even he can dig out. However, Coruwen still has trouble placing her love and trust in someone."

"She fears that something will take it?"

Orophin nodded. "She even fears losing myself or even Rumil." He knit his fingers together, hanging his head. "Which with the way he is now, I see why."

"You should not have to worry about her or your brother as much as you do, Orophin. I can see that it troubles you."

"Maybe it does, and maybe it does not. All I know is that I have to protect the both of them." Tauriel cocked her head to the side. "Haldir asked it of me. He asked me to at least protect Rumil."

"Am I under the assumption that you know about the people who protect your niece?"

"Freya, Heimdall, Dís, and Glorfindel… I have lost count of those who would protect her, Tauriel…"

"Do you feel useless?"

He narrowed his eyes; still they were trained on the floor. She saw his jaw tighten and his fingers loosen. She felt inwardly terrible once more, a dark, twisting sensation in the pit of her stomach. She felt as though she had hit a sensitive nerve in Orophin's heart. A quiet tap on the door made them both look up. Through the crack in the door, slid Naruhel with Elathan at her heels.

Looking at Naruhel closely, Tauriel noted how pale she looked, how the lines of stress and exhaustion were deeply etched in her face. Her hair was loose, aside from much of it being kept neat, some of it was frizzy.

"Naruhel, is something wrong?" Tauriel asked quietly, shifting her weight around to stand. The elleth shook her head, moving to Rumil's side. When she sat beside him and peeled back a sheet to reveal a great tear in Rumil's side and above that, a whip lash. "Is he all right?"

Naruhel removed a needle from a pocket in her apron and threaded a bit of black thread through the eye. "Far better than Himon or Glorfindel. He at least is warm to the touch," Naruhel said, her voice remaining flat as she concentrated. "Himon has fallen grey and the wounds he received are full of poison. I'm surprised that he even draws breath."

"He is a far too stubborn, you know," Tauriel leaned back gently, straightening her back to the post again. "I think if he passed, Moriel would have his head – in death or alive."

Naruhel smiled tightly, "Well, that would make two of us then. I cannot believe he went and got himself injured in such a way. Shadow-Men are deadly to dwarves, so why go running off with the idea you would be able to kill them?" She scoffed quietly, her smile dropping. "I still am finding it hard to believe."

"You sound worried about him."

Tauriel noted that Naruhel's shoulders became set as she snipped the stitches that bound Rumil's exposed side. Her brown eyes flicked down to her once she finished. "And why would I not? He is a general, he has people that love him - that would die for him, that would follow him to the Black Gates of Mordor if that was asked of him."

"Not quite sure about the love aspect of that statement, but yes, he is a General and our King's right hand." Tauriel then smiled up at Naruhel. "Unless, it is you that loves him…"

Naruhel remained neutral, despite the glow of darkness in her eyes that shocked Tauriel just a touch. "I do not love him; he is far too temperamental and seems to bypass those who truly care for his well being." She started bunching her hands into her dress as she whispered a few curses under her breath. "He is careless some of the time…"

"So you do care?"

"Possibly – though none of it is of your concern, Tauriel."

She smiled and stood. "Oh, but it could be, dear Naruhel." Orophin chuckled behind her, as Naruhel's face almost turned the color of her hair. "If you need me, I'm going to check up on Freya and Heimdall."

Naruhel sighed shortly, "I will not be finding you then."

Tauriel exited the room, a strange bout of happiness lightening her steps as she left the corridor for the dragons that lay deeper within Erebor's halls.

~.~.~

_Two days later…_

Nerthus honestly had never slept so much in her entire life – which wasn't long – up until now. Somehow, Coruwen had talked her into sleeping beside her fallen beloved while she went out to check on the injured. She was still finding it hard to believe that this one had become so cold, when elves were naturally warm creatures much like herself. He still drew breath, she noted as she laid her head on his chest.

However, a closer examination told her that he was sick by the drained color from his skin. And that is what made him cold to her scales. Her father had told her that she was a fire-drake and that warming this one would not even be a challenge.

Her father was a lovable idiot.

He knew little of fire-drakes or their heating potential. She was only so big and so long, and she could only warm this one for so long before she grew tired. She knew that Freyr would be a better candidate for helping this one, but no. No, he refused to leave mother's side until she woke up. By the Earth Mother, she hated her brother. It was not simple sibling hatred, but more vile and loathing hatred.

"I'm going to smack him if I see him," Nerthus growled quietly. The door opened and she raised her head up to see. Coruwen entered the room with Elathan on her shoulder. Yes, her baby brother, the diplomat. She let her head fall back on the lord's chest with an exasperated humph.

"_Briinah, dreh Fahliil-Fahdon alok?"_ Elathan asked, leaping down from his perch on Coruwen's shoulder to the end of the bed. He was asking if their elf-friend had moved, which he had not.

"_Niid, Zeymah," _She replied flatly. Coruwen smiled tightly above her and she craned her head up to look at the elleth. "Elathan, be courteous…"

"No, little ones, I understand you," Coruwen said gently, stroking Nerthus' head as she sat beside her beloved. "He is not as cold as he once was."

"Still cold to my scales though," Nerthus commented, resting her head on the lord's chest. She could hear his heart, growing steadily stronger each day under the watchful eye of the Golden Lady. Coruwen stroked his hair, which was still dark colored and smelled of blood. Typically, his hair would have been a shade lighter than his lady's like the soft glow of a candle. "You should not be as concerned as you are, my lady."

Coruwen stooped and placed a light kiss on his forehead. Nerthus had seen this sort of strange look that certain people get while looking at others. Her father had looked at her mother like this; this look that she thought was sadness or pity. She shifted uneasily, burying her face into the lord's side further. Apparently, that did not sit well with him as his face twitched with pain.

"Nerthus, gentle please. He was injured on the side that you lay on," Coruwen admonished quietly, standing with her hands folded. Nerthus' little face felt hot all of a sudden as she flicked her gaze over to Coruwen and then her disgruntled companion. He was oddly peaceful, despite his ghostly appearance and discolored hair.

"Is he a gentle one like you, my lady?" Nerthus asked, observing her lady's companion closely. He smelled strange to her, he smelled of the river mingled with copper and death. She could hear Coruwen's boots click and then was followed by a shutting of a drawer.

"He is very, my onyx," Coruwen whispered as she returned to his side. "He is quite venerable as well. You have met him, once I think." She moved aside the blankets to reveal a wound about the size of Freyr's head above the lord's heart that smelled foul. Nerthus sat up, watching Coruwen gingerly apply an earthy mixture to the wound. "Ah, this is terrible…"

"I smell poison," Elathan piped quickly, hurrying over to Coruwen's side. Is this truly what poison smells like? It reeks of rotting plants and death? Nerthus curled back into the lord's arm. "Easterling poison, how… Quaint."

"Quite," Coruwen half-whispered. Nerthus suddenly felt the lord's muscles tighten. She laid her head on his chest, feeling it rise and fall rapidly. She heard Coruwen hush her beloved, and then sigh quietly. "One step forward, two steps back."

"At least he is reacting," Elathan said in thought, flying over to the hearth. "Perhaps he did not mean to be injured?"

"Elathan, they always say that. Men – warriors – always think that they are invincible until something knocks them down a peg. Granted, Glorfindel is not one to think like that, but… But in some ways, battle's sweet allure wriggles its way into the humblest of people."

"You would know… How?"

"I was bitten by the warg mount of Azog the Defiler back when Thorin was alive. It… It nearly took my life, and showed me how easy it is to take one's life."

Elathan hummed, and Nerthus crawled across Glorfindel to rest her head in Coruwen's lap. "You know, not everything that happened in this battle was bad," Nerthus murmured. "A Nazgûl was slain and two lords have taken up writ of succession."

"Yes, yes there is that." Coruwen's fingers slid beneath her head and placed her head back onto Glorfindel's chest. "Keep an eye on him all right? I need to check in with Dís about Dain's burial."

"And Mother?"

"She's starting to feel better, I take it. She has stopped sharing her pain with me." Nerthus watched Coruwen for a moment; she watched the shadows dance in her face, the way the light played in her hair, and the slight gauntness in her features. Her heart tightened in worry as she averted her gaze back to Glorfindel's ashen face. "I will be back, my little ones. Keep an eye on him and make sure that nothing goes wrong."

"Yes, Coruwen," They both said in unison as the sound of her boots drifted away. Nerthus raised her head, looking at her brother curiously. He was hanging his head low with shoulders hunched and wings tucked close.

"_Zeymah, _what troubles you?" Nerthus asked, standing up as she flexed her wings. Elathan sighed, letting out a bit of mist as he did so. "Elathan… Speak."

"I feel as though Mother won't make it, _Briinah,_" Elathan whispered, though only loud enough for her ears to pick up. Nerthus flew over to the hearth, releasing a spark of violet flame into the fire to rekindle its light. She shot her brother a half hearted glare before returning it to stare into the fire. "Her breaths are ever so shallow and she has yet to open her eyes. Father even fears that she will pass."

"Elathan. Stop. Right now." Nerthus could not believe her brother! She curled up into a ball, ignoring him and regaining some of her lost warmth.

"Do you not fear it as well?" His voice rose making the bones in her spine rise. "Do you not fear for her?"

"I do!" Her voice cracked as she yelled at him with wings spread wide. Elathan flinched, curling back away from her. "By Yavanna, I do! Now, just shut up."

"Nerthus-,"

"Shut up, albino."

"Incredulous troll."

"I beg your pardon?"

She heard him mutter a few unintelligible words before settling back above her. If she were in his position, she would hide from someone like herself as well. She let herself drift into the warm fires at her back, feeling her scales and bones take in every drop of heat. Soon she would return to the golden one and keep him warm, as was asked of her by her lady. For now, she simply enjoyed the warmth of the fire and ignored her idiotic brother.

* * *

_I'm back! Sorry about not updating last weekend. My grandmother had to go to the hospital and I had to keep an eye on her. Anyway, I have been busy and such, and my writing may have suffered for it. _

___ We have reached 40 reviews and nearly ten thousand views, so to all of my readers, I bow to you. _

_Hope you all enjoyed this installment and please, drop me a review._


	26. Chapter 26

_**Black and White**_

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"I cannot believe you," Elathan grumbled under his breath. "I am not an albino…"

"Oh drop it," Nerthus snapped back, sitting up and glaring at her brother. "I still love you, you know." Elathan unfurled his wings slightly, giving him the slight appearance that he was bigger than she. "Elathan, perhaps we should go walk around."

He stared at her, dumbfounded. "Are you mad? And go against the lady queen's jurisdiction?" He scoffed, rolling his teal eyes. "I think not, dear sister."

"Once she gets back, troll-brain. And for the record that I know your brain has, do _not_ use big words." Nerthus rested her head back on the lord's chest, almost hearing her brother's brow furrowing in frustration. She leaned up, nudging his head a bit yet he did not respond. He was cold to her…. "Brother, what if he does not wake?"

"He will wake, sister." She sated the urge send a burst of fire in his direction. This one was so dear to her lady, so kind hearted by his scent, and yet so gaunt and sickly. "Elves may heal fast, but no man or creature could heal quickly with the poison that courses through his veins."

"What was it meant for?"

"Killing, or rather the finely tuned art that it is."

Nerthus inwardly rolled her eyes, "Art? I see no finesse in this mark." She pushed her head underneath the covers, looking at the mark on the lord's chest. It was unsightly; red, star shaped, and smelled awful.

"Art… Well, I wouldn't exactly call it what Bormah describes as art, but it's an art. A, uh, terrible, nasty art." Elathan's body shifted the covers as he landed beside her above the warm furs. "I wonder what he is like with our lady."

Nerthus ducked out of the covers, peering up at her brother as he looked toward the door. She, too, was curious. Her mother would say that curiosity was one of her more terrible traits, but if she wasn't curious – how ever would she know that staring at the clouds or sun hurt her eyes? Or that jumping off of a cliff without wings is a terrible idea?

"Aye, I agree," She curled up near the lord's head and crossed her paws. Elathan did the same, staring back at her with his bright, teal eyes. In this light, he almost turned a pale gold but still touched with the glisten of white. "I feel as though she has been through much turmoil. You know, like what Brother Smaug has been through."

Elathan nodded. "Our Lady has had her soul mates ripped from her before. First the King under the Mountain, and then the Golden Lord."

"But what I truly fear is Mother."

"Still?"

She sighed, "Elathan, Freyr is worried-,"

"Freyr is always worried, even if Mother gets out of sight. He will never be king with that kind of outlook on life. Honestly, even you or Zorya would make better rulers."

She scowled instantly. The heady thought of being queen about made her sick. Her queen…? No, never, not possible. She, like her white brother, were speakers, advisors or even seneschals. Then she remembered the long wyrm speaking to Mother with his honeyed words. Mother had called him a traitor, usurper, and murderer.

"None of us can be king or queen, Elathan…" She looked up at him from the linen covered pillows to find him grimacing. "That male… That male that made Monah so scared. Don't you think it's strange that she called him a _usurper?" _

"Nerthus, usurpers can be dealt with-,"

"No, Elathan. He did something; he did something to Monah to make her scared. You know her; she would stare death right in the face and laugh. But he… He made her so frightened. I-I think that there was something that went on earlier."

"Like what?"

Nerthus looked around nervously. "Do you ever notice that there are no other dragons other than us around? We never see Monah or Bormah's grandsires, and they have no sister or brother children. I think something happened…"

"And I think you're superstitious."

"You sound like Bormah."

"And?" He buffed his ivory claws on his breast, ignoring her. Her lips pulled back into a snarl and she leapt at him, tumbling to the floor as she bit down on his scruff. He did not cry out for help, or even fidget – he took his punishment like a strong prince should. His voice came out strained. "Perhaps, you're right."

She dropped him, but her anger still boiled. She saw her brother's face fade from shock back to calm in a few moments as he shook out her strong grip. They both froze when a faint voice was heard above them – though it belonged to no one they knew of. Nerthus leapt up onto the bed, searching for the voice. The voice came again and this time Nerthus looked down to the lord she was sitting beside. His body shook, and his face troubled with lips forming silent words.

"He speaks," Nerthus stated quietly. "But, I think he is with fever."

Elathan leapt up near the lord's head and pressed his head against the lord's. Quickly, her brother jerked his head back with a hiss. "Aye, his body finally woke up enough to check itself for pain and poisons."

"Should we get Coruwen?"

"Or the red head… Find both even! Quickly!"

Nerthus needed no other answer; she waddled over to the door, grabbed the handle with her teeth and pulled down before slipping out at a brisk run. She caught the scent of Coruwen and her red headed friend in the throne room. She took flight, dodging the Lake-Men that shouted at her for getting in their way as she made her way toward the throne room. The broad engraved gates stood cracked open and from within, Nerthus could hear her lady speaking with several dwarves and elves.

"He never got down off of that one," One dwarf with a floppy hat commented as he placed the pipe between his teeth. "He fainted after I told him that Smaug was merely going to melt the flesh from his bones in a matter of seconds."

Nerthus leapt down from her hover, and then beside Coruwen.

"Bilbo was a tad uptight then, Bofur," Coruwen replied. "Especially around Thorin and the boys…. Well, I seem to remember the latter hanging all of his belongings up in a tree that I had to get down."

The group howled with laughter and Nerthus smiled at her lady's content behavior. The red headed healer beside her was stitching a green cloak and the other red head was leaned up against a pole twirling a long knife in between her fingers. Quietly, Nerthus nudged Coruwen's arm.

"Ah, Nerthus, my princess, what brings you to me?" Coruwen smiled. Nerthus' heart seemed to clench painfully in her chest. She hated taking her lady away from this light heartedness. She did not want to worry her further, really she didn't. But it seemed that Coruwen caught her quiet behavior. "What is wrong?"

"He speaks…. And he has taken on a fever," Nerthus whispered, keeping her gaze lowered. Coruwen's face remained neutral; despite the flash of internal pain in her eyes. She tapped the healer to her right and she whispered something to the other. "Shall I lead?"

"Take us to him," Coruwen ordered, standing. "I will return shortly, my friends." Coruwen's gaze hovered over a silver elf that Nerthus had often seen with her. He rose and followed after her and the healer and Nerthus leapt into the air, trying to outpace her elven companions.

Nerthus returned to her brother, finding him curled around the lord's head like a great aura of white. She watched Coruwen sit beside the lord and stroke his face gently with the back of her hand.

"Naruhel, he is-," She was cut off by the lord's eyes snapping open and his hand gripping her wrist. She let out a gasp, as his eyes glared at her. He seemed to be quite lucid to her eyes until she crept closer. She crept up beside her brother and peered up at the lord. His eyes were open, yet greatly clouded by a great haze.

"Oh fun, hallucinating," Elathan jested, curling up into a ball. Coruwen sent a glare his way and he hid his head behind her rump and Nerthus smacked him upside the head with her tail tip.

Coruwen sighed, "Naruhel, we need to get this down." The healer picked up her skirts and ran from the room while Coruwen started to wiggle her wrist out of the lord's grip.

"What is causing this?" The silver elf asked from the doorway.

"If I had to guess – I would say it is the poison that hit all three of them." She turned her gaze up to the lord and her expression softened a touch. "Glorfindel, you are safe. There is no need to over react."

"Idril, you need escape. Now," Glorfindel's voice faded as though in a trance. Coruwen's eyes widened in surprise and she placed a hand behind her to catch her as she fell back. "The King has ordered it…"

Coruwen gave a suspicious glance at him. "Oh dear, he thinks I am Lady Idril," Coruwen murmured. The silver elf walked into the room further, wrapping a hand around Coruwen's shoulder. "Glorfindel, where do _you_ think you are?"

The lord looked up and then shut his eyes for a moment, "Belegost?" His eyes opened and he wavered for a moment, and Nerthus smirked. The poison and delusion were making him a bit dysfunctional.

The silver elf chuckled, "Well, he got the Dwarven part right, but the city is entirely wrong."

"Interesting, he seems to remember the part of his life before Mandos reincarnated him. I wonder…" Coruwen hesitated a long moment, drumming her fingers on her thigh. "Glorfindel, you would not happen to know if Lord Finrod had a daughter, do you?"

Glorfindel smiled and nodded. "She is near and dear to me…" Nerthus saw her lady physically brighten at the comment and then the lord let out a long sigh. "But she also is dear to another. One that I have seen fight for her before."

"Ah, well, think of her…"

"Why?"

"Because, this is going to hurt."

Naruhel appeared in Nerthus' vision with a needle in between her fingers as she jabbed Glorfindel in the neck with the needle and then pulled it free, stepping back. The lord's eyes rolled back into his head as he tumbled back.

"Oops," Naruhel giggled. "That… worked better than I thought."

Coruwen let out a breathy laugh and placed her hand on his forehead. "He still is hot to my touch, Naruhel."

"Fixing that…" Naruhel sang as she wrung out a linen cloth and gingerly placed it on the lord's forehead. "Himon is having the same problem, but he remains at rest… Thankfully. I have to wonder, who, or what, was Glorfindel seeing?"

"He was seeing a part of his life before Mandos reincarnated him. He thought I was King Turgon's daughter." Coruwen replied as she ran her fingers across the lord's hairline. Naruhel hummed in response, sitting on the sofa that was situated between the hearth and bed. "He also was under the assumption that he was in Belegost. This – as Uncle pointed out – was only half correct."

"I hate to interrupt, but couldn't you two have just given him a sleeping draught instead of sticking him like an animal?" Elathan injected. The two elleth looked at him and then shook their heads slowly. "And why not?"

"Not as funny," Naruhel pointed out. Elathan scowled and then huffed out a bit of steam before laying his head down on the pillows. Nerthus inwardly laughed, but let herself only smirk at her brother's haughty nature. "But I cannot believe that he would hallucinate such a thing, yet he knew about you…"

"Aye, I was just as shocked as you," Coruwen leaned forward, sighing. "He only seems to grow worse each time I look at him."

"Robin, you have no need to fret," The silver elf soothed. "Alone, you have done so much. Why not rest? I have not seen you do so in days."

Nerthus almost flinched. So, she was not the only one who saw her lady's lack of rest and diet. It seemed to her, that Coruwen took stress terribly even after living with it for so long. Coruwen's lips turned into a frown slightly, and Nerthus waited… She waited for her lady's turn of emotions.

"Orophin is right, Coruwen," Naruhel urged, sitting up. "Even though I worry about Himon – I at least eat and sleep."

"Naruhel, enough," Coruwen snapped. From her place beside Glorfindel, Nerthus spied her lady's hands and knuckles turning pale and shaking ever so slightly. They were right, she thought, they only want what is best for her. She tucked her wings over her eyes, feigning sleep. "I do not need sleep, for I feel fine. I am fine, and always will be."

"My lady… Please."

"No, leave me to tend to Glorfindel and Freya. I will be fine..."

"Araniel," Orophin started, his voice dropping to a scolding tone.

"Uncle, I am fine."

Nerthus resisted the temptation to growl at her lady. She was being foolish! Did she not see the gauntness she had taken on? Or even the tiredness she seemed to take to when alone? With her rising anger, she felt Elathan's tail brush up against her back as though trying to soothe her.

"I know you worry. In fact, I know that all of you worry, but I cannot let myself rest currently. Others need my attention," Coruwen stated, lowering her voice down. Nerthus could almost feel the glances from her lady's companions behind the darkness of her eyelids. She heard Coruwen's heels click the floor and then fade away.

"She never understands," Orophin commented. Nerthus cracked open her eyes and lifted her wing to see the silver ellon leaning against the walls, face tight with concern. "I assume it is Rumil's state of being tied with Glorfindel's that causes this behavior."

"She has barely eaten anything, and now she is slightly rejecting our help," Naruhel murmured. Nerthus saw Orophin give her a questionable look. "All right, fine – she is more than slightly. I do not understand why though."

"I seem to remember her doing this shortly after the death of Thorin. She retreats back so far that no one else can fix her. Only she can fix herself," He replied solemnly. Nerthus sat up, drawing their attention. "I assume you eavesdropped, little princess?"

"I did, and I apologize for it," Nerthus stated. "I wonder if Coruwen would change if Mother were to awaken…"

Naruhel nodded after a moment of thought, "I assume that it would. She was terribly worried about Freya when she fell." The elleth shook her head slightly. "But Freya is healing quite slowly and none of us can be near her because of your father."

"You must excuse Father's protectiveness over Mother, for dragons take easily to anger and other dark emotions. If you had myself or Elathan with you, I bet we could get you close enough to Mother." Nerthus offered. Elathan stirred at the sound of his name, leaping onto the head board. "_Zeymah, _what do you think?"

"A sound plan from my point of view," Elathan agreed. "However, one of us will have to stay with this one."

Naruhel stroked Nerthus' head gently and she let out purr in response. "I think your brother should stay, princess." Naruhel said as Nerthus was swept up into her arms.

She thought about wriggling free, but could feel how calm this one was. Her Father had told her that dragons can feel the pull of a person's soul simply by being placed in their arms or touching their hands. She felt warm and content in Naruhel's arms, like being with her own Mother almost. Naruhel carried her over to the room opposite of the lord's, where she saw the general – gaunt with shallow breath – in a bed of white linens with his dark hair fanned around him.

"Is he going to be all right?" Nerthus whispered, intrigue starting to tingle in her tail as she observed the shallow breathing of the general.

"He will be fine. He is merely resting right now," Naruhel answered with a soft smile. Before they left, the healer pressed a kiss to the general's forehead and Nerthus saw a flash of pain in her eyes. She cares, Nerthus thought as they left the room.

Upon coming near Freya, Heimdall growled deep in his chest that about made Nerthus second guess her decision of taking Naruhel this far. Nerthus leapt down from the healer's arms over to her father's paw where she bared her own teeth up at him.

"_Tala-," _Heimdall began, his voice trembling as his growl shook the air. Nerthus held her ground before her father, staring him in the eyes.

"_Ynot rebagon__**,**__" _Nerthus answered sharply, leaping back into Naruhel's arms. The healer gave her a questionable look and she leaned down, whispering, "I told him to let me pass."

"Very well," Heimdall laughed, his features softening as he gazed down at her. Her father expected her to challenge any male that stood in between her and something she wanted – even if that male happened to be him. "Freya has been rolling her shoulder as of late, little fire."

Naruhel's cheeks turned a light pink at the statement and Nerthus giggled. Her father used pet names to charm anyone. She leapt down when Naruhel neared her mother's body. Freya's wings were bound with large sections of linen and then tied with leather strips to hold the poultices against her wings. When Naruhel pulled a strip loose, Nerthus was shocked to see her mother's wings scabbed over in a thick black hide. However, it was not the appearance of the wound that made her shudder – it was the scent. Rotting plants and copper.

"Another treatment should have these scarred over," Naruhel thought aloud. Nerthus saw her eldest brother slink out of the shadows of their mother to take the linens handed to him by the elf. Gods, Elathan was right, Nerthus chided inwardly, Freyr will never be king at this rate. "How do feel aside from your wings, great one?"

"Fine, but I wish to fly," Freya answered, cracking open her eyes a bit. Her mother's eyes were dark as they looked back at the small elleth at her shoulder. "I grow bored of lying beneath a rock for days on end."

"Soon it will be over, my Fire-Scales," Heimdall purred, nudging her back haunch lightly. Freya let out a grunt, turning away from her mate with a ring of smoke escaping her nostrils. Nerthus took that sign as one of frustration. Her mother was one to become edgy under stress, but edgy was not the word that she thought of when looking at her mother. She saw her brooding right now.

Up from below, Freyr returned with long streams of white following him as he fumbled into a landing. In doing so, he jumbled himself up into a tight wad of linen which made Nerthus snort down at the ground.

"Easy, you were not named after grace, my son," Heimdall chuckled, picking up his son with two talons. The king gently unwound his son from the mess of linens and then placed him down before setting the linens beside Naruhel. "Tell me, little elleth, what is your name?"

"Naruhel," She responded as she poured an earthy green mixture over the linens. "And it is an honor to be in the presence of a king as well as a dragon."

"Oh, you need not compliment me, little fire. Many have come before me and told me how handsome I am all ready – I can tell you, it gets old," Heimdall chuckled, clicking his talons together as they curled into a fist. "I am under the firm belief that if people fear something, they try to gain the person's favor through compliments. Are you doing that, little fire?"

Naruhel smiled, "No, I was taught from the time I was an elfling to respect kings and queens. By no means, am I trying to hide."

"Then I name you, lion heart," Heimdall gave her a nudge in the side. She patted his snout softy before returning to her work. "And you are kind of heart, I see."

"You read hearts now?"

"Dragons can tell if they would choose to bind themselves to a person through the skill I used on you just now. My Fire-Scales used it on the Dear One, and thus bound herself to the small lady."

"I see… What other fascinating things can dragons do?"

"Well…" Nerthus inwardly flinched; Naruhel opened a bad door for her father. "Dragons are beautiful, intelligent, and they certainly know how to judge character. We know many languages, and enjoy riddles. Though, I seem to have outsmarted many currently."

"I noticed something; the language you spoke to Nerthus was different to that of what you normally speak, no?" The healer began tying the leather strips around her mother's wing and Nerthus made note of Naruhel's observation. Though it was never made apparent to her, dragons do speak two others languages.

"We do, lion heart. One is used when commanding another, and the other is used for everyday use. For instance, the word for dragon-fire only exists in the commanding tongue while the names for brother and sister only exist in the everyday tongue. To outsiders, I may seem strange, but it is how we have functioned for years." Naruhel hummed in response and Heimdall continued. "I will give you an example of the commanding tongue, _Nyke __dārys Zaldrizoti._ Nerthus, my princess, can you translate?"

"You said: I am the king of dragons," Nerthus answered. Naruhel flashed a small smile her way as she tightened the last bandage. Heimdall let out a playful purr and nodded. "Though brother and I find it far easier to not speak the commanding tongue in front of others…"

"It is fun, my princess."

"Bormah… no," Nerthus shook her head. Naruhel passed her, patting her head softly as she gilded up the steps to return to the upper levels.

~.~.~

_Five Days Later… _

Naruhel had managed to slip away from the healing rooms for a split moment that day, finding her body beginning to ache in both spirit and body. She sighed, running a hand through her hair, down to the curled tips. She grew tired of looking at stone, and grew tired of listening to the sound of children laughing. It was as though someone was dropping plates or glass onto the floor. Perhaps she was turning into Coruwen – turning into a concerned mess. Himon had barely moved in the past few days.

"Get a hold of yourself," She whispered, shutting her eyes. Her body leapt at the chance to almost shut down in rest, yet she snapped herself out of the seductive trance. If she could only rest for a few moments-.

"Naruhel," She turned toward the voice, spying dark green and auburn. Tauriel came trotting up to her, her face bright. And then suddenly, Naruhel felt self conscious about her own self, figuring that she appeared pale and unsightly to those other than unconscious patients. Her logic was proved true by Tauriel's look of concern. "What happened to you?"

"I-I am tired," She managed slowly. Tauriel placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze. "Tauriel, if you could-,"

"You need not say anymore, love bird. If you need to be with him-,"

Naruhel smacked her friend's arm, scowling. "I do not love him."

"Oh, really? That is not what Nerthus told me."

Heat rushed across her face instantly and then she shook her head. "No, Tauriel, I have told you the reasons why countless times before. I do not need to tell you more."

"All right," Naruhel started off in the direction of Himon's room. "Denying it only solidifies my answer!"

"Shut up!"

Naruhel threw the remark over her shoulder and Tauriel laughed, only for Naruhel hear it echo throughout her exhausted mind. The corridors seemed to stretch on forever and ever, somehow reminding her of home only when the Halls of the Elvenking were brighter… Yes, at one point in the course of ages those halls were not as dark. She had remembered being young and admiring the Elvenqueen. Faemes had been the one to tell her to take up healing when she had saved a small chickadee. Faemes was always kind, from what she remembered, and this was passed to her sons – though in differing volumes. And then she remembered the day that Calenon fell, and how the darkness not only fell over Thranduil but over the entire realm.

"_It was also the day that Calendir was lost near Dol Guldur," _She thought, stopping at Himon's door. She stopped when she heard faint sobbing from Rumil's room. She knew that Orophin had gone up to the wall, and that meant that the crying belonged to Coruwen. _"She would not be able to take it if either of them perished._"

She pushed open the door, her gaze lowered to the floor as her peripheral vision began to narrow. Suddenly, she was dragged back by the sleeve of her dress when it caught on the handle of the door. She did not have time for this! She groaned in anger as she tugged her sleeve free, only to see oil marks on the cloth – she scowled.

"Naruhel?"

Her heart stopped and her jaw dropped. Slumped against the pillows was Himon, with dark hair stark against the linen and his own skin. He gave her a small smile, only for it to fade into pain.

"Himon… Y-You're awake."

* * *

_Thoughts? _

_Annoyed that I left you all with a cliff hanger? _

_Tell me what you think! :) _


	27. Chapter 27

_**All Souls Return**_

Naruhel scrambled over to Himon's side, hushing him as his entire body recoiled in pain. Much to his chagrin, she was forced to give him a sleeping draught to calm him down. She had noticed when he calmed down that he was far more lucid that she thought he would be. His blue eyes watched her as she removed the stitches from his chest and arm.

"You look terrible," Himon murmured, his words slightly slurring together. She popped the last stitch in his arm then applied a coating of melted wax and herbs over each wound to prevent them from opening. She glanced up from her work, finding his gaze on her.

"And who are you to be pointing fingers?" Naruhel jested with a smirk.

"I cannot exactly point, Naruhel," Himon returned and she frowned. Honestly, he was still the lovable general that every elf in Mirkwood knew of. "How many days have I been unconscious?"

"Seven," She placed the small clay pot of wax back on the hearth, and then moved to a bundle of linen to wrap his wounds. He let out a groan when she touched the waxy wounds. "We all were worried sick about you."

"The others – are they safe?" Himon leaned back into the pillows. She blinked, finding herself speechless. She numbly shook her head. He frowned, eyes boring into her own. "Are they dead?"

"No, thank the Valar. Glorfindel is about as worse as you are, and Rumil is still unresponsive," She sat on the edge of the bed. Horrible was the single word she used to describe herself at that very moment. She was starting to feel sick inwardly, and it didn't help that Himon made her recollect their fallen kin. Gently, an arm was draped across her hip and heat rushed to her ears. Himon looked at her sleepily, his body slowly slipping under the waves of sleep. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his. "Sleep, it will be all right…"

"Pretty, little fox," He breathed as his eyes fluttered shut. She smiled softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Despite her best efforts to hide it from the others, she could no longer deny her heart's desire for him. To her, he resembled a handsome hawk that was blessed with coal black markings. She sat back, but kept a hand on his face to trace the angles of his face. As her fingers graced the left side of his face, he leaned into her touch with a soft sigh of contentment.

"Please, I beg of you, do not frighten me like that ever again," She said into the empty room.

~.~.~

_A few days later… _

"_Breathe, just breathe,_" She said to herself. Coruwen felt as though she were looking through a one way mirror. Her joints were filled were iron, her bones made of lead, her muscles formed of water, and her senses seemed to be covered by a thick coat of wool. She swore that she could still see the outline of Glorfindel on the backs of her eyelids when she blinked.

People had told her to eat or possibly sleep, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Her heart dreaded sleeping and kept her awake by electrifying her system with chills of worry. Coruwen dragged her elbows up onto the back of the sofa to rest her stiff neck. She glanced back at the small plate of food her uncle had brought for her earlier that day, now thinking about eating something. She grabbed a bit of bread off the plate and began to nibble on it while her mind kept repeating the same words to her.

Coruwen popped the last bit of bread into her mouth, mulling over why the group had gone off to the Shadow-Men camps in the first place. Perhaps it sounded like an excellent idea at the time? No, why would anyone want to go gallivanting around in a dangerous camp full of some of the most dangerous Men in this world? She groaned, narrowing her eyes at Glorfindel. She had seen him fight before, and never had the passing notion that he would be harmed.

Then a small spark of memory kicked in, reminding her of the South. She smiled about the thought of the Fellowship. Aragorn, more than likely, took up his writ of succession as King of Gondor. Legolas would return to Mirkwood once everything was safe in Gondor, and Gimli would more than likely return to this great mountain. Her body stiffened at the thought of her dear friend, thinking of what the prince would be doing if he caught her in such a deplorable state. Once, he had saved her from nearly slipping into grief. If he saw her now, he would surely give her slap on the wrist for it. She missed him, she missed brotherly bond she had formed with him over the years.

A groan of pain shattered her reverie and faded her smile. Glorfindel was stirring once more, his body twitching in pain when she drew closer. She sat beside his head, stroking his forehead. Her heart dropped out of her chest – he was still hot to her touch. However, that did not prevent him from waking. He blinked, and slowly a tired smile crept up onto his face.

"Coruwen," He breathed. She smiled at the rasp in his voice. By the look of shock on his face after that moment, she realized he caught it. She slipped an arm around his shoulders while the other grasped his hand to pull his upright. Abandoning his side for a moment, she returned with a cup of water. He slipped it then massaged his throat with a slight look of pain etching in his features. His voice cleared enough for her to understand him. "Dear, how long?"

"I lost count – somewhere between a week and a fortnight," Coruwen replied. Her body released every stress caused bond, making her suddenly feel lightheaded and drowsy. She held a hand to her head, stopping herself from flopping forward.

He slipped the water from the cup, and then narrowed his eyes at her. "When did you last sleep?" She couldn't find her voice that moment, and instead shook her head. "No wonder you look pale."

"I do not look that sickly, do I?" He raised both eyebrows to that statement. She sighed, defeated. "How could I sleep? I always feared you would wake and I would not hear you."

"Why would you do that?" His hand rose, stroking her jaw softly before dropping back into his lap. "Dear," He made a noise halfway between a scoff and a laugh. "Sometimes I never understand some of the things you do."

"Says you," She twisted a lock of blood stained hair, showing him. It was bad enough he was pale, but at that moment he paled – almost resembling a ghost. "Who went running into a Shadow-men camp."

"Can I say that it was Himon's idea?"

"You are not weaseling your way out of this, Glorfindel. You could have died – heavens, you almost did. What then?"

Glorfindel stared at her, and then at his lap. His thumb traced the lip of the cup, "I knew that if I told you, you would worry. It is bad enough that you worry about every little thing."

"I worried for you the moment you went out of those gates." She tightened her hands into fists. "If you think for one moment, that I never worry for you when you disappear like that – then you're sorely mistaken."

"Dearest, you are not thinking straight-," She held up a hand, silencing him. Gently, he pulled her to his side. "Let me speak," She nodded slowly. "Your worry counts for nearly five ellith, and you do not deserve to do such a thing to yourself. I told you I would come back to you, I just did not say how. However, I do agree that running into the Shadow-Men camps was an idiotic idea." He smiled, kissing her forehead. "You should rest - you are starting to look like a ghost."

"I'm fine." A yawn made a fool of her that instant. Glorfindel chuckled, before coughing into his arm. He winced with each cough until they subsided. "Perhaps, we both need it?"

"Perhaps, my dearest. But I think you need it more than I if you are yawning like that." Heat pricked her ears, and she shrunk down. "I will be here, trust me."

"I will not take up space in here! This is your-," His finger pressed against her lips, yet she gently moved it down. "Glorfindel… I can sleep elsewhere, I will be fine."

"No," He leaned back, grimacing in pain until he was settled, "Come."

She glared at him, but let it fade. She could not be angered at him for long. Mutely, she watched him – the pain that seemed to ebb out of him with every breath, the gaunt appearance he had taken on – each feature not looking like the lord she cared for. Her hand rested in his, delicately tracing the lines on his palm and watching his fingers twin with hers. He held onto her hand, yet she could feel the physical weakness he had taken on.

"How fare your uncles?" Glorfindel asked at last, drawing her gaze up from his hand. She hesitated – her mind picturing Rumil, causing her to become speechless. She made a small noise but stopped, shrinking back a bit. "Not well then?"

"No, especially Rumil – he has taken far more ill than you or Himon. Naruhel says that its poison, but I am beginning to think that his body took on too much stress."

She felt his hand abandon her hand to slip around her waist to pull her down beside him. Her body fought at first, only allowing her to fall onto her hip, while the rest of her stayed upright. The two remained silent for a moment, and Coruwen gave up. She had been up too long, granting her body little resistance to him or the grief that welled up in her chest. She rested her head on his uninjured shoulder, feeling his hand relax its grip on her waist.

"Rumil will be fine. I have faith that he will be awake in a few days. After all, I highly doubt he would let you and Orophin be left alone in this world."

His logic was just, for Rumil would not simply leave – it was not in his nature. All things, especially for Rumil, could never be left alone. He was always sure to voice his opinion. And at these thoughts, Coruwen smiled. Neither poison nor death could hinder Rumil's ambitiousness.

"I suppose you know of my uncle than I do," She said thoughtfully. "I hate asking this, but have they ever pestered you about anything?"

"Orophin questioned my love for you before we set out to end the Easterlings, and Rumil had become suspicious," He answered as he ran his hand down the length of her spine. "Why do you ask?"

"I wondered because I had been thinking of Celeborn and Galadriel. I had received news not too long ago that told me they had marched on Dol Guldur and razed it."

"Which is no problem for them," She looked up at him, and he smiled softly. "Do not tell you worry for them…"

"No, I trust that they know how to keep themselves safe. I simply miss them." Lightly, she kissed his cheek. "A vast difference from some people I have come to know."

His smile faded. "I knew you would never forgive me for this little mistake."

Coruwen shook her head, laughing. "You mistake me, love. I have full trust in you, but the plan is what I do not trust – or rather the person who conceived such an idiotic idea. I will admit that some of the time, our ideas do not come out the way we planned."

"Are you speaking of this one?" She pursed her lips then shook her head slightly. "Which one then?"

"If I named all of them, it would take days." She reached up, tapping the black stone wall with her knuckles. "The adventure to this mountain was a big mistake. Loving Thorin was another, and another would be falling into grief."

"The latter was an effect of his love, dear." Glorfindel kissed her temple, and her heart became torn for a moment – it was torn between happiness and a touch of guilt. She tucked her face onto his shoulder. "I apologize for reminding you of him, dear. I forget that his memory still stings."

"Not as much as it once did." She felt his fingers card through her hair, and then trailed down her back. A wave of sleep washed over her at that very moment, and she shut her eyes. "Not as much, which I find funny."

"Do you?"

"Yes, for at one point I would have never told you anything about him." Her body relaxed in his grip and darkness swallowed her, reminding her that all was well in the world.

~.~.~

The world around him was silent.

The fire had banked down to glowing embers that only lit the room in one corner. The light cast gold into the obsidian walls, yet no shadows moved to obscure its dim beauty. Light played off of different furs that had been used at one point, but now rested in a chair far in the corner.

Mutely, he maneuvered around the room, being mindful of his sleeping lady. His foot tapped an end table, and he looked up at her. Soft firelight played off of the gold in her hair that was fanned around her head, and softly touched the white dress she wore. He sat on the edge of the bed, and watched her for a few moments. He was amazed that she had remained asleep while he snuck away. Gently, he stroked her hairline. At his touch, she stirred, leaning into his touch.

"Time to awaken, my dear," Glorfindel said as he passed his hand over her cheek. She groaned, cracking open her eyes to look at him sleepily. The two froze for a moment until Coruwen sighed, rolling away from him to face the wall. "Oh come now, are you truthfully going to do this?"

When no answer came, he leaned forward, grabbing her midsection and pulling her toward him. He felt her entire body become rigid and her hands wound themselves into the side of the bed, fighting him. He reached over her, removing her hands from the edge to take a hold of them. She looked up at him, wide awake, and sighed.

"I suppose there is no point in fighting you," She murmured, slipping her hands out of his grip, "Stubborn ellon."

He smiled a bit, sitting back to allow her to rise. Her hair was a tad wild, which she attempted to fix by combing her fingers through her hair. The last few days she had been with him to heal the wounds on his side and chest. Now, he was ample enough to move around and be with the others through her healing, yet she had nearly exhausted herself in the process.

"Are you sure you wish to be calling me that?" He saw her cheeks turn a most becoming shade of pink as her gaze dropped to the ground. He ran his hands down to her low back, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder.

She tucked her head underneath his chin, tracing circles on his chest with her index finger. "You washed all the blood out of your hair, I see."

"It does become bothersome after a bit, you know."

"I would imagine it does," She laughed, pulling back to look at him. He watched her fingers rise and take a lock of his hair, giving it a small twirl. The brightness and light in her eyes was infectious, for it spread in his heart, crawling across his skin like touches of fire. And then her hands pressed against his chest, and in that moment his blood stirred. "Does… Does this still hurt?"

"A bit," He answered, trying to bank the fire in his blood. A small part of him – a voice, if you will – spoke to him that one day she would be his. He shut the voice out in an instant, trying to keep his focus on Coruwen as she tested the wound above his heart from the Easterling spearman. Her nimble fingers touched the risen scar, and he resisted the urge to pull away. Her blue eyes flicked up his, taking in his reaction. "It still is sensitive."

"And it will be for a while." She removed her fingers from the wound and rested them in her lap. He took both of her hands and pressed a kiss on her knuckles. When he lowered their conjoined hands, she saw her smiling up at him, a most serene smile that could be formed through love. "I have missed you as well, love."

Her hands slipped out of his and took his face, bringing her mouth to his. At first, he was shocked at the boldness of her action, but quickly abandoned such things as shock to return the love she gave him. Again his desire's fire stirred his blood. He broke away from her, and kissed her neck feeling her shudder beneath his fingertips as he worked his way down to her collarbone. She sighed, her nails digging into the cloth on his shoulder and her head moved to the side.

"Glorfindel," She whispered with shortened breath. "I can hear someone outside the door."

He almost did not heed the warning she gave for a moment when he kissed the column of her throat eliciting from her a gasp. Finally, over the beat of his own heart, he heard low, deep voices whispering outside of the door. He released her, finding her breathing faster than before until she took a deep breath. She mutely slid off of the bed, crossing the room to the door where he heard Thorin Stonehelm and Bard outside.

"Ah, Bard, Thorin – what brings the two of you here?" Coruwen asked, her voice surprisingly bright.

"Later this evening, we will be burying our fathers in the old Hall of Thror. We would like for you to attend," Bard replied, his voice solemn. He saw Thorin lift his ax and then a muffled crack was heard. "That is if you aren't preoccupied with helping Lord Glorfindel."

Coruwen chuckled, her hands folding behind her back. "I am sure he will be all right to attend, my lords. Thank you for telling me this."

"Of course," Came the automatic reply from both lords. Coruwen shut the door, and her lips turned downward when she faced him. Her gait became quick as she padded across the room, checking various objects quickly. He leaned back, watching her flit across the room like a mad hummingbird.

"Coruwen, whatever is the matter?" He asked at last when she dropped a cup onto the floor. She picked up the cup, dusting it off and setting it swiftly onto a wall shelf. She was whispering to herself hurriedly, and he raised both eyebrows as he watched her. "Coruwen, love, speak to me."

"The last time I was down in the Hall of Thror was thirty years ago," She answered. The trepidation in her voice alerted him to her grief. "I-I have no idea if I can go down there…."

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and rose to take her in his arms, ceasing her movements. He rested his lips on the top of her head, catching the scent of roses off of her hair. "We should go down there if it worries you."

She pushed back, her hands on his shoulders. "No, I-I couldn't."

"If you never face your fears then forever you will be stuck in a rut, Coruwen." She was silent for a long while, letting her hands slip down to her sides. Her silence told him she was thinking, possibly agreeing with him and having fearful thoughts at the same time.

Her eyes rose to his face, and she sighed. "You're correct; we should go down to the Hall."

~.~.~

Tauriel plucked the string of her bow, keeping her eyes on the playing dragons at her feet. Elathan and Freyr were biting and pulling at each other's wings with talons raking the air as they fought. Nerthus had taken up a place at her side and Zorya rested her head in Tauriel's lap. It had been asked of her to keep an eye on them by Freya and Heimdall since the two were testing Freya's wings once again.

Tauriel released her bowstring to rest it on Zorya's head, tracing her slightly curved horns. "How do you tell them to not play hard?" Tauriel asked in a hushed voice.

Zorya looked up at her with bright, amber eyes and huffed out a bit of green veined fire. She assumed that the emerald princess didn't speak Common Tongue. Nerthus stood and released a hot jet of violet flame between the squabbling males to drive them apart. With a growl, Nerthus plopped herself back down.

"Thank you, Nerthus," Tauriel said, giving the princess a pat on the head. "How come neither Freyr nor Zorya speak Common Tongue?"

"It is because they do not wish to understand it," Came Elathan's reply, swatting his older brother's snout when he tried to lunge forward. Nerthus gave a nod of her elegant head when Tauriel looked to her. "Dragons are intelligent creatures, but we can choose not to understand men or women through will power."

"I feel somewhat confused by your race," Tauriel admitted.

Elathan chuckled, his body swaying with a flamboyant flick of his tail. "Then the feeling is mutual, Tauriel."

At that moment, Tauriel heard the sounds of laughter resounding nearby. Her gaze searched high, following the sound of the laughter to a catwalk above her. She clicked her tongue and with her signal – all the dragons padded after her like lost pups. Above her, walked Coruwen and Glorfindel.

"Ah, I thought I knew that laugh," Tauriel whispered.

"Where are they going?" Nerthus asked, flying up to land on her shoulder.

Tauriel smiled, "Let us go find out, shall we?"

The dragons all chirped in response, darting ahead of her as she started up the steps to follow after the lord and lady as they disappeared down a corridor. She hunched low, darting behind archways and pillars when their conversation died down. Steadily as she followed them, she noticed the walls of the corridor becoming less and less polished.

"Tell me about him, love," Glorfindel said as Tauriel darted behind a pillar.

"Thorin?"

"Yes, you told me before you drifted off that you would tell me about him."

Coruwen let out a nervous laugh, "I suppose I did…" Tauriel grabbed Freyr's tail as he darted forward, but thankfully she pulled him back without much effort. His sharp face regarded her in slight frustration, and she gave him a scolding flick of her eyes. She listened to Coruwen once again. "- He possessed the qualities of a king; venerable, kind. Yet his kingly qualities were outweighed by the natural ones that all dwarves possess. He had nasty stubborn streak, as well as a tad bit of recklessness."

"Do not hate me for asking this –but why did you love him knowing that one day he would pass and you would live?"

"I never loved him until a… a small act in Mirkwood. In fact, I thought he hated me for the longest time." Tauriel heard her sigh. "And I missed him for the longest time."

"I will not pry if you do not wish it of me, love."

"No, no telling you this helps. It helps more than you could imagine."

Tauriel heard their footsteps falter further into the hallway, and she hurried after them, curious about Coruwen speaking about the last fragment of her past. The dragons padded after her once again single file with Nerthus behind her.

And then she came upon a room – at one point a hall. Tall, vaulted ceilings that became a vast maw of darkness with pillars coming to drift off into the void. All along the walls Tauriel saw engravings of jewels, dragons, and kings. She pressed herself in between a strong pillar and an engraved wall.

"And here is where they lie," Coruwen began. "It is where all the kings of old lie. Here, Dain laid Thorin and Dís' sons to rest along with three jewels and Orcrist. Now, Erebor will never be taken by surprise."

"Orcrist, you say?" Glorfindel asked.

"Yes, what of it?"

"Orcrist belonged to Ecthelion of the Fountain once. It cut down thousands of dark enemies, and it glowed when enemies drew near."

"It did and still does. If I remember, Ecthelion of the Fountain was one of the many lords of Gondolin. Did you know him well?"

"He was a very good friend of mine." Tauriel heard his voice break ever so slightly in that moment and she felt a painful heartstring being pulled. "I watched him fall to Gothmog…."

"Glorfindel, I apologize for bringing up such a sensitive subject."

"No… No, dear, it only shows me that we are connected in more ways than one."

She peeped from behind the pillar, watching the two. Glorfindel had moved to stand before the grave of Thorin Oakenshield and Coruwen was at his side. She saw Glorfindel look in her direction and she ducked back, hoping that he did not see her or the dragons.

"Come out little dragons, we know you are there." Coruwen said. Tauriel let out a breath, slipping down onto the floor in relief, "Tauriel, you too."

* * *

_Hello all, so a bit of sad news this weekend - I have a cold and I cannot focus worth a darn right now. When I get to feeling better I will update again, and by then we will have moved on out of Erebor and toward the later chapters! For those of you who are Legolas relationship lovers, that lady will be showing up eventually. _

_So, as always, fave,follow, and please review! _


	28. Chapter 28

_**Trust**_

* * *

_Many months later... _

"It seems that she has returned to us," Celeborn said in a hushed voice. The ride to Gondor was a long one, and currently everyone was at ease; banners and ceremonial dress had been put away. Galadriel looked at him and then at their niece who was behind them.

Slowly, a smile of agreement creased her face. "That she has," Galadriel agreed. "It is good to see her free once again. For a long while I thought she was lost to us. However…" Celeborn dreaded those words the minute them came from his wife. He turned his attention back to the road. "Still she bears the scars of the past. Perhaps she could follow me into the west."

"She cannot sail, not yet. I believe that time will heal the wounds made by the past," He answered, keeping the negativity out of his voice. Galadriel had spoken of this before Coruwen had begun changing. Granted, he wished to see his niece be happy, but perhaps sailing was not the best of ideas. Throughout his soul, he felt her disapproval sting. "Look at her, she is happy the way she is…"

"But do you not see them? Do you not see the scars?"

"I do, but…" He paused, sighing. "But, perhaps time will fix them."

Her lips became a thin line, yet she rode closer to him, taking his hand. The silent comfort she gave him eased the tension in his soul. He looked up at her and smiled softly. In return, she smiled back. A shrill roar drew their gaze from each other to a small white dragon chasing after a fox.

"I still find it strange that such creatures have bonded with her," Galadriel noted, watching the dragon. He turned his gaze back to his niece and his grandsons. One other dragon rested precariously on Elrohir's shoulder. "Celeborn, you are thinking of those dreams she had, are you not?"

"I am," He turned his gaze to the white dragon. "I wonder if she has had any dreams like those as of late."

"I would to ask. She seemed rather terrified from the last one." She wrapped the reins around her hand tightly. "Let us forget about that. The days coming will be of happiness, and we should not taint it with old thoughts."

~.~.~

"Do you feel different now?" Coruwen asked, sitting beside her cousin. Arwen smiled softly as her fingers turned the ring on her right hand. "It is good to see love coming about again."

Arwen nodded, taking her cousin's hand. Coruwen looked up at the new queen, silently questioning the gesture. "Do not try and hide it any longer, cousin. I see the way the two of you act around the other. It seems obvious that the two of you are taken with the other."

Coruwen held back a small laugh, but her smile widened. Arwen was always perceptive to others. Looking out into the gardens, Coruwen's eyes traced the fragments of dim moonlight dancing off of the surface of the pond and the small white flowers that dotted the landscape. Gondor was carved from white rock which the moon toyed with to almost glisten in its splendor. Coruwen released Arwen's hand and stood, smoothing out her long white skirts before walking about the land, feelings it slowly release the ties of darkness. A small jasmine plant drew her attention and she stooped, picking one of the tiny flowers.

"How did the battle fare in Erebor?" Arwen's voice snapped her out of her thoughts and she looked to her. She twirled the flower thoughtfully and sighed. "Not well then?"

"No, well…" Her hands fell limp at her sides as she released a breath. "It could have better, but I suppose there was no preventing the massive damage done to all races that were present. Some of our kinsmen were left damaged, and some of it could have been avoided had they not run off into danger."

"But that is war's course, no?"

"It is," Coruwen attempted to run a hand through her hair but was reminded quickly by the decorative combs in her hair. Her hand curled back, and she shook her head. "I have never been more terrified in my life."

"Glorfindel spoke of his injuries to my brothers. Were they truly as terrible as he said?"

Coruwen looked to her cousin, giving a nod. She turned away, her hair covering her sight of Arwen as she stood to approach her. She looked to the crescent moon, but heard Arwen's skirts swish beside her.

"We always will fear for them until they come back to us safe and sound…" Arwen drew her attention once again and she smiled faintly. "It will _always_ be like that, I am sad to say." Arwen gave a shake of her head at that moment, loose dark curls playfully framing her face. "Earlier, you said that you would introduce me to Freya and Heimdall, no?"

Coruwen laughed, nodding. She started back into the main hall of Gondor, feeling strangely welcomed by the tall white marble halls. Her eyes flitted around the room, tracing up the great pillars that rested the ceiling on their shoulders. The statues of the past kings watched the world with unseeing eyes, resting in small archways of stone. Whilst marveling in the stonework, her eyes caught the flashes of white against the veined stone.

"Elathan, come out," Coruwen said, folding her hands together. The dragon refused to come out, but she could hear the clicks of his talons on the stone floor. She shook her head, placing her hands on her low back as she heard him prance about in the shadows.

"Need assistance?" Came a voice from behind her. She turned around to see Legolas with Zorya on his arm. The silver of his doublet shimmered in the light as he outstretched an arm for Zorya to hop down onto. She flashed a smile at him as he passed her to follow the clicks of Elathan's claws. "May I inquire to why you are hunting after the dragon that successfully begged food off of Aragorn?"

"I need him to speak with his mother and father about letting the others greet them," She answered. He reappeared with Elathan cradled in his arms whilst the baby munched playfully on his sleeve. She held back a laugh, "Be careful with him – he enjoys biting."

Legolas pried Elathan off of his arm and set him before her with a chuckle as the dragon flapped his wings as though off balance. She held the prince's stormy eyes for a moment before letting it fall to the teal eyes of Elathan.

"Elathan, could you possibly speak to your mother and father about letting the hobbits and Arwen come and meet them properly?" She asked in a sweet voice that Legolas chuckled at. Elathan cocked an eye ridge then nodded. The dragon waddled away into the darkness of the evening. She looked at Legolas, raising an eyebrow. "What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing," He answered with a shake of his head. The falseness to his voice made her half heartedly scowl. She walked up to him and rested her head on his shoulder, looking up at him innocently. His grey eyes locked with hers, remaining passive. "What are you thinking about?"

"I am thinking about how much I missed you," Her answer drew a hum from him and she straightened. Clearly, he did not believe her by the neutral expression he wore. "Truthfully, I missed you, Legolas. Though I am no elleth that worries every minute of the day about a friend or lover, I will say that I worried for you."

"I never suspected you to be, but…" His shook his head a bit, and Coruwen took his hand gently, urging him to speak. "But after the way you snapped at me in Lothlórien I was sure that you despised me."

She let out a huff of airy laughter. "No, Legolas… I would never despise you. You are the closest thing I will ever come to a brother, and I love you. But, if it lightens your conscience, I will say that I was not quite myself until shortly before I left for Erebor." He gave her a look of puzzlement and her smile fell. "I-I did not see who I was and did not realize how much I meant to others. I know it sounds downright foolish, but I was sure that no one truly cared other than my kin."

"Coruwen, you mean a great deal to me." His grip tightened around her hand. She looked up into the high ceilings of the throne room. "I have cared since we came together all those years ago."

"Yes, I knew of your bond – I knew it held some sort of importance, but my heart could not see it and I started revolting at what advice you gave me. And for that I apologize, I should have never pushed you as I did."

"Every person – whether elf or man – makes mistakes," Smoothly, he took her face in his hands to force their gazes to meet. The tips of his fingers were lightly calloused from archery, yet smooth. A small voice in her mind whispered incessantly in her ear, but she pushed it away to focus on him. "You are no different, and the same can be said for every one of our kindred."

"Yes, your logic is correct." Slowly, she slipped out of his grip. "But still, Legolas, I am deeply sorry for what I did to you all these past months – it was wrong to treat one I have come to call brother in such a way."

"And I forgive you, and I would call you sister until time overtook us…"

His hands slid around her upper arms as though she were about to run off. And in that moment, an emotion unreadable to her flashed in the depths of his stormy eyes. Before time even took a breath, she felt a mouth upon hers. At first, her mind frayed and her body stiff, and her eyes wide. Slowly, she relaxed into the embrace feeling a strange sense of security similar to the one she found in Glorfindel yet it felt foreign, almost unwanted. She returned it meekly, unsure of what to do. Deftly, he released her.

"What?" She mouthed.

He shook his head. "Coruwen, please – you must understand."

"No, I understand, and by no means am I upset. I have somewhat known about your affections." He flinched to her comment. "As I said before, I love you as a brother, and -,"

The sounds of Merry and Pippin made her speech stop and look to the group of four hobbits followed by Arwen and Aragorn. At the sight of her, Pippin smiled and ran over her.

"Coruwen!" Pippin cried as she knelt to embrace the Halfling. She pulled back, giving a gentle ruffle of Pippin's gold hair.

"It is good to see you once again, Master Pippin," Coruwen whispered as she stood. "Now, I believe there is a court of dragons waiting to meet everyone outside. Come," She gestured for them to follow her and linked arms with Legolas.

Outside, Elathan sat perched on the White Tree in the main courtyard while Freyr stared at the Guards of the Tree quizzically. Freyr made a loud chirp, yet the only people that flinched were the one entering the courtyard.

"Elathan, Freyr – with me, please," Coruwen said as she passed them. Freyr padded after her while Elathan came to land on her shoulder. Looking to Freyr, she ordered. "Go ahead and give the call."

Freyr stood on the very point of Gondor and roared to the best his shrill voice could. In response came a purr like rumble and Heimdall's head rose from the darkness below. His yellow orbs blinked slowly and Coruwen smiled, releasing Legolas to greet Heimdall. The dragon allowed her to embrace his snout while he purred. Freya's head rose up as well yet she could only rest the tip of her pointed chin on the edge of Gondor.

"So these are the Halflings," Freya jested with a grin. Merry was the first to approach Heimdall and observe him. "They remind me of Bilbo in a way, Little One."

"Yes, they do," She replied. She looked to Frodo and Sam, who had remained behind with Aragorn to silently observe the dragons. "You may approach them Master Samwise – they do not bite."

"It's not that I fear, my lady… I fear they may eat me…" Sam said as though it were apparent to her. Turning to Freya, she saw a playful glint in the dragoness' eye that made Coruwen inwardly cringe.

"Oh, you would be like eating a prairie dog to me, Master Sam. Hardly worth the trouble," Freya said with a flash of her sharp teeth. Sam scowled while the others burst out in laughter at Freya's jest. "Now come and greet me, little hobbit. I swear on my father's scales that I shall not hurt a hair on your head."

Sam gave Coruwen a curious look and she walked up to him, kneeling down. "When a dragon swears by their ancestors, it means that they shall not break said promise. Understand?" She explained and Sam nodded. Frodo grinned and walked with Sam up to the dragons.

"They remind me of dogs!" Merry laughed as Freyr tugged on his trouser leg. Coruwen smiled and lightly scolded Freyr for biting. "Are they always this curious?"

"They like new people," Freya answered with a rumble. Coruwen watched with a soft smile as the dragons played with the hobbits, pushing, biting, showing off their fire, and flying before them while Aragorn and Arwen took the chance to approach the adult dragons. "So, you are the duo that my Dear One speaks so fondly of."

"Does she?" Aragorn said with a slightly raised voice. Coruwen shook her head at the quick glance Freya tossed her way. "In any case, Coruwen has spoken much of you and your mate to us as well, great dragon."

"Please, Aragorn, you and I are royalty – please call me Freya." She looked down as Arwen stood before her, smiling. "Dear one said that you were rather curious of our kind, Arwen."

Arwen smiled brightly, unabashed and proud of Coruwen's previous comments. Freya leaned down so Arwen could reach out for her. Arwen was surprisingly silent when Freya touched her outstretched hand. Coruwen felt a nudge against her leg. Her gaze flicked down to Nerthus, whose tail swished past her. She frowned, following Nerthus' trail as she padded away to a nearby pillar nearest the entrance. Nerthus had only ever followed one being around or even sought them out.

In the shadows of the pillar, she saw white robes flick away along with Nerthus' squeak of surprise. A knot in the pit of her stomach twisted and she turned away, trying to hide the pain that ebbed throughout her body.

"Is something wrong?" Legolas' voice said in her ear. She looked up, finding his gaze to be on her, but quickly she averted her gaze as guilt made her head swim. For a moment, she could have almost heard the furrowing of the prince's brow. "He saw us?"

"Glorfindel is far more perceptive than many make him out to be," She whispered back. "If I approach him alone, he shall not be furious."

"What I did was impulsive, Coruwen. You need not take the punishment of my foolishness." She shook her head – she had given in to him, even though her heart did not leap like it had when she was being held by Glorfindel. "If he loves you, he will understand it was a mistake."

"If I explain it to him, yes. If you do – I fear his calmness will shatter and he will injure you." She thought for a brief moment about going after Glorfindel, but soon found herself drained of every ounce of courage. Legolas frowned and started to move, but she cast a hand out, stopping him. "Please, do not interfere."

He bowed his head slightly, and she smiled – a forced, agonizing smile – at him. She started after Nerthus, following the various chirp and squeaks she made down a long hallway to an open door. Her insides became numb when her hand pressed against the door. Nerthus greeted her with a chirp when she entered the antechamber.

The marble walls danced with shadows, covering great white and blue tapestries that hung in the room. A window sat open, muffling the crackles of the fire. She spied Nerthus sitting on an oak chest beside a high backed chair and sofa. Coruwen approached Nerthus and stroked the princess's little head, finding a small spark of hope in the dragon's eyes.

"Do you think of me a fool, Coruwen?" A voice asked behind her. The voice sounded suspicious, venomous, and dark – all of which chilled her blood in a heartbeat. The shadows curled and rippled, forming the lines of Glorfindel's form upon the marble wall. She bit her lower lip, keeping her throat from making a noise. "From I saw, I now assume that you think of me as such."

She found her voice through her chilled nerves, yet it was not one she recognized. It was small, almost meek. "I have never seen you as such, Glorfindel. What… What happened was a mistake," She heard his boots stop a few feet from her, skidding on the stone. How desperately she wished to hide away somewhere, far from the gaze of him, far from the gaze of the love she cared for and his jealousy. "I have only ever cared for you as a lover. No one else could replace such a feeling of enlightenment in my heart."

"Am I under the assumption that what I saw earlier was merely a parlor trick made some wizard then?" Coruwen turned her head as he gilded past her to stand in the light of the fire. The shadows darkened around him, making him appear far taller and impending than she could have ever imagined him to be.

"No, it was no parlor trick…"

"Then explain to me what it was."

Her body rattled down to the tips of her fingers. "He kissed me, what of it? I see him as a brother, nothing more. What happened…"

"See, not even you know. And you were there, standing in the light of him." She stared at him as his eyes darkened with an unreadable emotion – one she hoped to never see in him in all of their days. He approached her, taking her upper arms in his hands and tightening them around in a vice like grip. "I have seen it – the way he fawns over you like a moonstruck animal, the way the light of love brightens his eyes when you draw near. Though you love him as a brother, he loves you as something far more… precious. He wishes to hold you, to make you his own."

"Glorfindel, stop," Coruwen pleaded in a soft voice. His eyes were dark, and they only grew darker as he stared down at her, the throes of his own speech seeming to drown out all other voices.

"Why would you betray me in such a way? Why – what I have I done to evoke such behavior?"

"You have done nothing." Her soul twisted back into form, and her voice became louder, taking on a sharp edge as she stared up at him with a thinning gaze. "You need to stop," She coiled her fingers around his and pulled softly. "You are hurting me."

His grip only tightened, drawing out her anger from the depths of her soul, "Coruwen, tell me why. Tell me why you would let yourself love that man."

She smacked his wrist, causing him to snap his hands back from her arms. "Laurëfindel," He froze – where at the use of Quenya or the sternness in her voice she knew not – she held his gaze, keeping the same notes of predatory darkness. "I have never been unfaithful to you, and this you know for a fact. But for some strange notion, you seem to have let jealousy blind you. I have known for months – heavens, even years – that Legolas has loved me. It was only a matter of time until such an event occurred. By _no_ means, do I love him in the same regard as you. It was a mistake upon both our parts."

"Then tell me why you gave in when you could have pushed him away?"

She sighed, a sigh that she could not hide in his presence. Her anger was beginning to boil beneath her skin, yet she kept her voice calm – though he was trying her patience. "It was a mistake – a simple, blind, mistake." She clasped her hands together, poising herself highly to keep herself from appearing beaten. "How long has this gone on?"

"What?"

She raised her voice, enunciating the words clearly for him – knowing that he was not hard of hearing. "How long has _this_ been gone on?"

"How am I supposed to answer that?" She kept her gaze locked on an object just past him to avoid looking directly at him. Her heart quivered each time she looked at him, the fear was simply too much for her to take on alone. He sighed, "I suppose since the day you collapsed in Imladris on the day of the Council. He has proved to be a nuisance."

"He is impulsive, and acts without thought on rare occasions. It happens to the best of us. Even to those who seem level headed and calm," Her words seemed to take effect – Glorfindel's voice dropped back down to a lower tone. Yet, she continued. "I think it would be best if you and I kept our distance from the other until this…" She shook her head. "Jealousy passes."

"Yes," He answered. She met his gaze, finding it to betray the cold bite of his voice. She turned, feeling her body seem to lag behind as she left the room. Behind her, she heard Nerthus' little feet click across the ground.

~.~.~

"He is jealous – it happens to the best of men," Galadriel soothed, stroking her niece's back. Galadriel had seen her niece come into a room many a time in a fit of emotional distress, either caused by frustration or sadness. Now she looked at her and she saw nothing, not a single emotion written across her face or flickering in her eyes. In this state, it reminded her of her brother when he bent his knee to her uncle.

"How could he become jealous knowing that I love him like I do? It was a simple mistake – nothing more," Coruwen said in a blank voice. Her niece stared at the white walls of her room as though they moved, and yet Galadriel could give her no just answer. "He acted in such a strange way."

Galadriel took Coruwen's hand, feeling her return the affection with a soft squeeze. "Men alone are envious creatures, but when they hold the heart of someone they love – they become like wolves, protecting and even killing for those they love. Women can be the same, but the whip cracked at Glorfindel first. His reaction from your interaction with Thranduil's son is to be expected. Had you caught him in the arms of another woman, you would have the very same."

"Yes, but… Why?"

"Celeborn did this when we were young and courting like the two of you are." Galadriel tapped her fingers on her skirts. "And to fix this matter, I had to leave him alone to figure out his own puzzle. But when I did this, it hurt and I missed him. I missed him to the point of where I questioned my reasoning. In time – like Celeborn – Glorfindel will piece together his wrongs and rights and allow you to come back into his heart."

Coruwen smiled, the first sign of emotion that her niece had shown in over an hour. "How will I know?"

"All ellyn have their ways of showing they are ready to re-accept their potential mate… You will know before the sound of the sea calls you."

Coruwen laughed, "Foresight has gifted you with a vision?"

Galadriel smiled and then tapped her niece's nose softly with her finger before standing. She smoothed out her skirts and then felt a tug on the hem of her sleeve. Looking down, she saw Coruwen beaming up at her. She watched Coruwen look back down at her lap as her hands rose to slip the diadem off of her brow. The silver slid gently off of her hair and then it curled around her fingers.

"Thank you, Aunt Galadriel," Coruwen whispered.

"You are most welcome, nightingale."

* * *

AH, relationship issues - why are they difficult?

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	29. Chapter 29

_**Ashes**_

* * *

Long tendrils of fire sprayed roving shadows appearing like dancers upon walls of mahogany and white. In the darkness of the room sat a dragon, bigger than most hunting hounds now, relishing in the coolness of the marble and heat. Nerthus cracked open an eye, watching her lady from the shadows. Elathan rested in their lady's lap as the flames played off of his white scales. The patterns of the flames often mesmerized her – the gold of fire would turn him gold or the light of the moon would make him glow like a star. The two of them had lingered behind with Coruwen after the marriage of King Elessar and Queen Arwen to live with her in Imladris. The Lady Galadriel, along with the other Ringbearers, had left these lands long ago to venture to the land of healing, Valinor. Coruwen's uncle had taken her to Imladris after their land had started to fade away.

However, Nerthus had noticed a turn in their lady's personality after the events in Gondor nearly two years ago. Coruwen now appeared far gaunter, her body thin, and her voice gone. Elathan and Nerthus had no idea how to fix it, and yet no one told them how to fix it. Nerthus could hear the padding of two people outside the door and she raised her head to look at the door.

Slipping through the door came Legolas and Hithiel, a handmaiden to their lady and dear friend. Nerthus watched Hithiel closely, for she had not seen the elleth in quite some time. The lady was built small much like Coruwen was, but with hair formed of the finest strands of moonlight and softened silver to create shining tresses of white. It was strange, Nerthus reflected, how Hithiel moved like a phantom around the room while speaking to the prince hurriedly.

"Hello Nerthus," Legolas' voice said above her. Nerthus glanced over at the prince, seeing him smiling over at her. Nerthus could not smile like elves or men could, but she let out a pleased purr and swished her tail at him, much like a hound to its master. He approached her, stroking her head while another hand scratched her chin. "How does she fare?"

"No changes," Nerthus answered as she prince released her head. She shook her head, feeling the cold of winter tingle her scales from the prince's hands. "She remains mute, unhappy, and never moving."

Legolas sighed, shaking his head. "How did she fall into this darkness again?"

"_Again?"_ Nerthus echoed, eyeing him curiously. Hithiel walked over to the two with Elathan at her heels. She was surprised that her brother had even left Coruwen's side, seeing as he had not done so in weeks.

"Yes," The prince shook his head as though in disbelief. "She has done this before; she did it after Thorin died. The only reason she was able to overcome her grief was through the funeral in Erebor."

"Though no one has died, my prince," Hithiel whispered, her sweet voice taking on a regretful twinge. Elathan leapt up beside Nerthus and sighed as he lay down at her side. "Surely there must be a cause."

"Perhaps, my dear Hithiel, but I cannot see it and forcing her to talk only makes her worse," Legolas' grey eyes landed on the fire as it flickered in its mirth. To Nerthus, his eyes took on a beautiful color of grey; it was as though a storm sat above a horizon while gold light spread beneath it. "Glorfindel was a fool to let jealously blind him – it only hurt my sister."

Hithiel touched his hand as they curled into white knuckled fists. He looked down at her and she smiled softly, bright eyes shining with a forced happiness that Nerthus had seen many times in the creations of the One. He released the tension in his hands to take hers, spreading within the dragoness a sense of relief.

"All of us make mistakes, Legolas. I am under the full understanding that the two of them eventually will let the fires of hate and regret bank so they might fix the broken glass of their bond as not only a courting pair but as dear friends," Hithiel whispered and the dragons nodded in agreement. "I mean, if Lord Celeborn could not fix his niece, who else could? Even you could not, and she cares for you quite deeply."

"Hithiel," The maiden pressed two fingers to his lips, and he frowned.

"You know I am correct, Legolas. You could not fix her, Lord Celeborn could not, and the dragons surely have tried." She gestured to Coruwen, who had taken up reading a book in the far corner of the room in a window seat. "No one else in the entire world could fix her."

"Lady Galadriel could, if she were here," Legolas reminded Hithiel, who sighed under her breath. He looked to Nerthus, giving her a curious look, "And if I understand any of the recent signs, I take it that the dragons will soon be departing these lands for the Withered Heath."

"We are," Elathan answered. "I hate to leave our lady like this, but Mother's word is law. It is time for her children to become crowned heirs. With that crown, we also leave behind the lives of our most loved, even if those most loved are humans, elves, or dwarves."

"Come," Legolas gestured for the two to follow him while Hithiel rested her hand on the prince's arm to walk with him. The two dragons padded after him, slipping out of the door to the white halls of Imladris. "We have another problem at hand, my friends."

"And that would be?" Nerthus asked, keeping pace with Hithiel. Legolas smirked, letting out a scoff. "Oh with that attitude I suspect you are saying something negative."

The prince shook his head, "I see it as such, princess. My father plans to leave these lands for Valinor soon to be with my mother… Knowing this, soon I will have to leave to watch over Eryn Lasgalen until the settlement in Ithilien is completed. I regret leaving Coruwen in the state she is in currently, but know that Imladris is the safest place for her."

"What are you saying, Legolas?" Hithiel asked, her nails digging into the silver fabric on his arm. "Do you wish for her to follow you?"

"No, I simply wish for her to be safe. If that means leaving you with her, Hithiel…"

The elleth nodded, and Nerthus' mind paused mid-thought. When did Hithiel become precious to the prince? She gawked up at the prince and lady.

"Am I missing something valuable in this conversation?" Elathan interrupted as he landed on a wood end table. Nerthus silently thanked her brother for having a bigger mouth than she did when it came to speaking to elves. She was always puzzled by their strange behavior at times. And her puzzlement showed in their faces as Elathan's gaze thinned. "Princeling, have you secretly started to court our Mist Maiden?"

The prince smirked, "Possibly, white prince. Why ever do you ask?"

Her brother was no fool, but the princes knew how to toy with the other. "Do not play coy, Legolas…" Her brother gave a shake of his head then tapped his talons on the wood. "Forget I said anything. What is more important is that one or another we must find a way for our lady to return to us. If she keeps this strange behavior up, she more than likely will have to sail with Thranduil."

"And even then we have no idea if she would even come back," Nerthus interjected, drawing Hithiel's gaze. The maiden's arctic eyes flashed dark for a moment, a mere moment of grief and concern that Nerthus shared deep within her soul. "She might remain this way until the seas roar up and take her… That or time consumes her."

"Nerthus, stop being so pessimistic – she shall return… Eventually," Elathan countered, his voice breaking a touch. Legolas shot her brother a concerned glance as though angered by the statement. "If we cannot think of anything other than leaving Hithiel here, then let that be the order."

"Hithiel," Legolas turned to her once again and she raised a hand to his cheek before smiling. "Are you sure?"

"I am not bound to you… Not yet at least. Go. I will be perfectly fine here in Imladris with Coruwen," Hithiel told him. He nodded, taking her hand once again and deep within, Nerthus smiled. She padded past the elves and her brother to traverse the long hallway as the storm continued its guttural song outside of the walls.

She leapt up into a window big enough for her large body and watched the intercut frost patterns begin to form upon the panes. It was the lace upon glistening blue fabric that ebbed away from the triangular patterns in the dress of this window. She touched her nose to the glass and breathed, letting her own heat seep through allowing the mystical beauty of the window shine. From the pouring icy rain, it drew swirls in the glass's pristine form, ruining the icy lace and Nerthus' view of the outside view of the world through the fabric of the window's dress.

"Beautiful thing a storm," A voice said behind her. She swiveled her gaze back to search for the voice to find Erestor standing her. He had been silent, a mouse amongst felines as he moved toward her and her window. He looked funny to her, his face similar to the Lord Elrond's but stress had drawn lines into his face making him appear spent. In the light of the lightning, Nerthus saw his hair. It reminded her of a wooden board and colored like tree bark. One long hand stroked her head, "You are fascinated by the window pane, little dragon?"

"Quite," Nerthus answered in a low voice as she watched the glass once again. "I have spent much of my time in a storm, flying, hunting, and playing. But never before have I been more interested in such a common thing."

"Two twin elflings I knew certainly loved storms. They used to sit and draw circles in the frost," Erestor replied. Nerthus turned an eye back to him. "Arwen's brothers were by far the most troubling pair I have ever dealt with."

"That is not much of a surprise, Lord Erestor," Nerthus cradled herself in the window, letting her tail drape down the wall. "Why have you come out here? It is rather strange of you to come out and visit."

Erestor sighed, shaking his head and pulled back his hand. "I have a disgruntled lord in library, who will not leave me be no matter how much I ask."

"Glorfindel?"

"Yes, he has been rather upset and thus comes to me with his problems… Why – will never know." Nerthus chuckled, drawing his thinning gaze to her and she hunkered down, frightened. "The twins are trying to decipher Glorfindel's problems as we speak, little dragon."

She brushed her claws over one forearm and let out a tiny huff of black and violet fire. "Have you heard about Coruwen then?" Erestor nodded. "Do you think it is because of her?"

"I honestly have paid no attention to the courting of my own kind in a long time… It never appealed to me, but I suppose that would explain the lady's sudden lack of speech and her presence around these halls. However, Glorfindel seems only to have just recently taken to this strange behavior."

"Perhaps he is lonely?"

Erestor shrugged, and Nerthus saw why courting never appealed to him – he was quite aloof for an elf or even a lord. He did not need company to fill the holes in his heart; he had his books and his annoying, four-legged cotton ball.

"You do not care, do you?"

The lord smirked, "Not particularly."

Nerthus leapt down from the window, padding past Erestor and slowly picking up speed to find his library in the other end of the Eastern wing. She pressed her head up against the wall to hear the twin sons of Elrond speaking. Her gaze traveled up to the handle of the door, feeling as though it was miles above her head and she was at the base of a mountain, staring at the top. She was but a female dragoness, small and lithe, compared to her eldest brother. If she could only reach that handle with her feet or tail, she could get it open. She swished her tail, focusing the balance into her haunches, preparing to launch up at the handle. She leapt up but the door swung open when her claws outstretched to grasp the handle and she crashed into someone.

"Ah! Dragon!" Elladan yelled underneath Nerthus as she removed her claws from his chest, thankfully not drawing blood. Wintry eyes glared down at her and she rumbled playfully in an attempt to cover her mistake. Elladan's hands picked her up, allowing him to sit up as he locked gazes with her. "What are you doing?"

"I was looking for the two of you," Nerthus replied in a honeyed voice. Elladan hummed and dropped her at his side while he pulled himself up. Elrohir shut the door once his brother was standing and they started down the hall. "Do you two think his strange behavior is linked to the fight the two of them had two years ago?"

"I have no idea, Nerthus," Elrohir said. "We managed to get a few words out of Glorfindel, but he is simply unhappy. He has become rather reclusive with most people aside from a few ellith he has attempted courting, but they never appealed to him."

"Or he chased them off by being depressed," Elladan interjected. Elrohir swatted his brother's arm, the fabric of the robes cracking beneath his palm. "I am simply telling you what I saw, Elrohir."

"Be mindful of your words, who knows who is eavesdropping, brother." Elrohir tucked his hands into the long sleeves of his robes and his scowl dropped into a neutral mask once more. "Perhaps Nerthus is correct, Coruwen and Glorfindel made the other happy, and with their happiness these halls seemed to brighten as well. What triggered their strange departure of the other has me dumbfounded though."

Nerthus remembered the horror and hurt upon Coruwen's face when Glorfindel had accused her betraying him. Within her in that moment, Nerthus had seen the woman that her mother had spoken of many, many times. Fiercer than her own Mother, she thought.

"Jealously," Nerthus said as though ashamed of the word. It left a bitter taste in her mouth saying it, but it was the truth. The twins looked at her, confused. She had always been the far quieter one, the one to blend with the shadows, the one to bury her head in the ground, and the one to tuck herself beneath her wing and hide. "Glorfindel became jealous of Legolas… And I believe his envy remains to this day."

"How… Strange of him," Elladan said with a slight grimace. He looked to his twin, who shrugged. "If I understand my brother's shrug, I believe we cannot fix that."

"The problem remains and more than likely will unless Glorfindel manages to fix what he did wrong."

"Meaning?"

Elrohir smacked his brother upside the head, "She means, rock-brain that Glorfindel has to not see the prince as a threat, which he is not. If my memory is correct, he is rather taken with Hithiel anyway…"

Nerthus nodded, leaping up into a window. "The love is strong in those two, but the prince fears leaving Coruwen because of her terrible state."

"Does he not trust us with her?" Elladan asked, feigning heartache with a hand over his heart. Nerthus giggled, swishing her tail. "I cannot believe the prince."

"Elladan, he has every right some days. But still," Elrohir let out a long sigh, running a hand through his brown hair. "Grandfather is present as well as Elrohir and I. Why worry?"

"He _is_ rather protective of her, Elrohir," Nerthus and Elladan noted. Elladan finished the thought, "He does not wish for her to fade…"

"True," The twin agreed. "Nerthus, convince the prince that all will be fine and we will keep a close eye on our cousin."

The princess bowed her head, "Of course."

~.~.~

Hithiel wound her fingers around loose pieces of thread, sitting in her window seat and hemming a pillow that Elathan had torn open one day whilst chasing a certain long haired feline. She counted each stitch as her fingers automatically started weaving the white thread across the torn linen. The door across the antechamber squeaks, yet she focused on the thread. Her time as a seamstress had certainly paid off when it came to fixing little tears.

"Hithiel," Legolas' voice said from across the room. She looked up from her work to the prince as he stared at her from the doorway. She gestured for him to come near, and he crossed the floor over to her side and she smiled. His eyes flicked down to her hands, which still gripped the needle and thread. "Where did this come from?"

She set it aside, taking one of his hands and giving it a small squeeze. He sat on the edge of the seat, a look of stress beginning to form in his face. She raised a hand to his cheek, caressing it with her fingertips causing him to flinch. She inwardly compared their differing skin tones; he was a touch darker than she. Beneath her touch, his fatigue caught him and he relaxed into her touch.

"What troubles you?" Hithiel asked, keeping her voice low. She removed her hand from his cheek to press it against his chest. His gaze opened halfway, and his chest heaved in a silent sigh. "Legolas?"

"My father, he - ," He paused clutching one of her hands in his, "He has become terribly grieved as of late…. I cannot help but think that it stems from my mother."

"Your mother? Has she passed on to the Halls?" She asked as he came to settle behind her. She leaned back into him, leaning her head back to look up at him as his gaze became transfixed on the window. She could not help the feeling of guilt that spread in her chest. To possibly quell it, she reached up and touched the prince's jaw with her fingers. His wintry gaze fell on her, "You… You never answered my question."

He shook his head, dropping a kiss onto her forehead that caused her stomach twist into knots. "Think nothing of it, Hithiel."

She frowned, shifting onto her side to look at him. "What befell your mother?"

He looked down, and she froze. "My mother left these lands many, many years ago when I was an elfling. She left because my brother was slain in battle." Hithiel jerked back, biting her cheek to refrain from interrupting him. "I barely remember her and my brother. To be honest, I only remember my father becoming terribly ill after Mother left."

"Legolas, I apologize. I had no idea-," He smiled – a smile of sorrow that cut her deeply. He shook his head and took her face in his hands and her heart skipped a tiny beat for a moment, the stern storm that his eyes typically possessed melted away to a calm sea. He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips and heat pricked her ears as he pulled back.

"It would be best if you knew, love," Legolas said quietly. Her eyes were wide at the unyielding trust he placed in her, even people like her father had not placed such trust in her as Legolas had. "I have recently been writing to my father and he wishes to meet you, Hithiel."

She smiled nervously, playing with the sleeve of his doublet. "Is there anything I should worry about?"

Legolas hummed, shaking his head. "He can be a bit protective, but you should have no trouble with him. Many consider the two of us similar."

"If you believe that I will be fine, Legolas, then I trust you."

"Good," He kissed her once again, taking in her concerns and replacing them with a sense of flying or dizziness that could only be described when one has their heart stolen by another. She pulled back from him and pressed her forehead against his. "My dearest Hithiel…"

She walked down one of the halls later that night, listening to the song of the rain above her head. The whimsical song was cut short by the sound of boots clicking the floor and she froze, trying to assess who was approaching her. Her attention flicked back to see Coruwen coming up the hallway, anger written across her features. Her mind remembered one thing when the elleth passed her.

"_Silence speaks when spiteful words are all but wasted,"_ Hithiel thought gravely.

* * *

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	30. Chapter 30

_**Fate**_

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"Are you sure there is no other way?" Hithiel asked. Elathan and Nerthus had perched themselves on a low hanging tree branch that was caked with snow. The twins had come with her to bid the dragons away since Coruwen was not in her right mind, nor was she ample enough to come outside. Truthfully, Hithiel began to wonder if Coruwen would ever come back to them; she had taken no emotion these last few days in a sudden jump. And it seemed to her, that the dragons were affected by it as well. Elathan's eyes blinked slowly and he turned his head to look away.

"Mother has ordered it, and if you wish to go against her wishes, then you are signing away your life, Lady Hithiel," Elathan snapped, shutting his eyes tightly. Nerthus shot her brother a dark look beneath her bowed head. Hithiel bit the inside of her cheek, the dragons were at odds. "Now, mother _would_ take into consideration the fact that Coruwen is not in her right mind. But… I feel we have over stayed our welcome."

"You are the few things that make Coruwen happy, Elathan," Elrohir pointed out. The white prince looked to Elrohir, a lizard like scowl forming on his face. "From what I have deduced, Coruwen is starting to fade. Grandfather has seen it, and has not left her for several days. You two must stay, I beg of you."

"She is sending herself to her own death, and let her," Elathan replied, and Hithiel's heart jolted painfully in her chest. Leave her? The dragons loved Coruwen, why in the One's name would they leave? Elathan regarded her with a darkened teal gaze that caused electrical jolts to shoot up her spine. "We leave because we must, not because we wish to."

"You leave because there is no hope for her!" Elladan shouted, his voice echoing across the empty clearing like the perfect, dooming tone of a bell. Nerthus raised her head and Elathan glared at him. "She is dying, therefore you leave. My cousin is _dying, _snake. Elrohir told you that the two of you make her happy, or so we think."

"She is dying because of a lord's foolish ideas!" Elathan shouted back, winging opening and his body lurching forward. Elladan stepped back, and Hithiel darted toward Elrohir, trying to stay out of the range of the other brother's temper. "She chooses to die; she knows that life is no longer worth anything. We are leaving, her lord no longer loves her, and her family lives across the sea. What remains here for her?"

A muscle in Elladan's jaw twitched, but he spoke no more. With a grunt, Elathan settled back on his haunches. One knew that Elathan was no fire drake, but that did not mean he did not possess the spirit of one. Untamable pain laced each of his words, each word that Hithiel heard shatter the icy winds.

"What good comes from staying with a corpse? That what she wishes to become shall come true," Elathan's eyes watched them down the bridge of his nose. "Nerthus, come, we have to return to Mother."

"Elathan, wait a moment," Nerthus demanded, grabbing a hold of his tail with her teeth. The prince growled, his tail writhing in her teeth wildly. She growled and released him, sending him flying into a snow drift underneath them. His head poked back up, and her ruby eyes narrowed. "Coruwen may wish to die, but perhaps-,"

"It is no longer debatable, Nerthus," Her brother countered. "What's done is done. Let sleeping dogs lie – I do not think I need another reason."

"She loves us like Mother does!"

"And give me a good reason why we should save her. We have far more important things to deal with."

"Would you stop acting like a bloody stuck up bastard for five seconds, and listen!" Wisps of violet, black flame slipped from her lips as she bore her teeth at him. "If we love her as much as these elves, then why not stay? If one person broke her, how can that one not fix her? I heard them and saw them fight. Truthfully, Glorfindel did not wish to hurt her, but he did. And Coruwen was not willing to discard him in such a way either. Fix the supposed unfixable."

"Sister, why must you try and be a saint?"

"I am not trying, brother. I love her like I love Mother."

Elathan snorted out mist, "You may stay here, but I am leaving. Mother will scold you and I will laugh."

"You are a royal ass, Elathan."

"Only when I want to be," Elathan lifted into the air, disappearing into the mirthless sky and Nerthus sighed, her breath showing in the cold air. Hithiel saw the beginning lines of worry forming in the princess's features as she followed her brother's flight east.

Nerthus looked to the three before her and Hithiel watched the princess leap down from the branch. "Leave Glorfindel to me, my friends. You must convince Coruwen to not fade…"

The princess started off into a dash and Elrohir sighed, "We need to find Legolas. He has stopped Coruwen from fading once before."

"I will find him," Hithiel replied, and the twins nodded. She picked up her skirts, walking back inside. She could hear Nerthus' claw clicking the ground far ahead of her, but as much as she desired to follow Nerthus to inspect Glorfindel's current state, she had to find Legolas. Hallways seemed to stretch longer, as though time kept relapsing over and over for her. Sheer frosty lace covered the intercut windows panes that she passed until she heard the faint sounds of laughter. She slipped into the shadow of an open door to see Legolas sitting across from his father.

The few times Hithiel had seen Thranduil, it was from a great distance. She assessed him for a moment, finding what striking features that Legolas possessed in Thranduil as well. It would seem that Legolas took after his mother in hair and eye coloring while his father had silver hair matched with perfect pieces of jade for eyes. One thing that caught her attention instantly though was he lacked the intercut crown of vines and leaves upon his head – which, in turn, made him less impending in her eyes.

"You hear it call to you, Father?" Legolas asked, light tone now diminishing into a far graver one.

Thranduil shook his head, his hands resting in his lap. "Every now and again, I think I hear your mother's voice. But it would seem that when I open my eyes, she is gone," The king said. "I plan on leaving with Lord Celeborn in the coming years."

"And what of Eryn Lasgalen?" Legolas watched his father intently, only moving to uncross his legs and then cross them once again.

"I have left in the hands of Himon – that is until you return," His father made a steeple with his long fingers. "Of course, that is, if you decide to return."

"I do!" Legolas shied away for a moment, and his father smirked. "Father, I will return – that I promise. However, not at this moment."

Thranduil arched an eyebrow, releasing one of his hands to bring it up to cradle the side of his face. "May I ask why?"

"Coruwen…."

"What has happened now?"

"I-I am entirely sure."

Hithiel took a deep breath and lightly rapped on the doorframe, drawing the attention of the prince and king to her. The relief of seeing her flickered in Legolas' eyes as she entered the room. She folded her hands behind her back, looking to Thranduil first and then his son.

"Legolas, who is this? I have never seen her before," Thranduil asked curiously.

"Father, this is Hithiel – the woman I wished for you to meet," Legolas replied. Despite his voice portraying steadiness and peace, Hithiel could pick apart his voice quite easily nowadays. However, it seemed his father did not quite catch the ever so slight crack of trepidation in his voice.

"Ah, Hithiel – I have heard quite a lot about you from my son," Thranduil said, standing. She bowed to him and he chuckled. "No need, my dear. Out of my realm, I am a lord no different than Lord Celeborn."

"Before we get too far, my lord, I came to tell Legolas that the twin sons of Elrond request his presence outside," Hithiel said with a small smile. Legolas dipped his head to her and disappeared without another word.

"Has something occurred that I was not notified about?" The king inquired and Hithiel sat down in the chair her beloved had taken up. Jade eyes regarded curiously, a curious gaze that made her feel tiny. In her mind, she told herself that one day she – possibly – she would be bound with Legolas. She would be a princess; she could no longer hide from that fact.

"Events lately have somewhat spiraled out of control," She answered. "Some of it, we possibly cannot control."

"Oh, you have taken on my son's ability to beat around the bush," Hithiel glanced up to see Thranduil sitting across from her with his gaze held on her. "Please, my dear, spare me the slight annoyance and tell me what has happened."

"Coruwen has begun to fade."

"_Again?" _

"Legolas said the exact same thing, when has this happened?"

"You know of the Battle of Five Armies, Hithiel?" She nodded, and a flash of grief flickered in the king's features. "King Oakenshield passed away that day, and Coruwen was quite… attached to him, to say the least. When he passed, she attempted to fade. Legolas stayed with her the entire time – through her silence, through the attempt and moreover through the extreme amounts of heartache. She is a fragile, little thing past all of her walls."

"I have known her but nowhere near the length that you and your son have, my lord."

Her entire body jumped when his hand took hers. Looking up, she saw a soft smile on Thranduil's face. "Dear Hithiel, if I understand my son then, please do not use such titles."

"I understand," She knit her fingers together, trying to contain the nerves that jolted throughout her system in that moment. "I find it sort of intriguing… That many of Legolas' habits seem to stem from you."

Thranduil chuckled, "Yes, he has a few..."

"He speaks highly of you," He nodded, and Hithiel felt disturbed deep within her soul. Unlike Legolas, Hithiel could not pick him apart so easily. His face was more neutral, his eyes showing nothing she could take in.

"You care for my son?"

She almost stammered with her throat beginning to constrict. Her voice came out far different than she would have thought. She was but a mouse before the cat. "Yes, I do."

"Then that is all I need to know. I clearly frighten you," She worried her bottom lip, trying to hide her nerves. She tried to shake her head, but Thranduil's gaze slightly thinned. "I apologize if I have caused you discomfort, Hithiel. But understand this, I love my son and I only wish for someone to love him, and not to simply lie to him or leave him. You, it seems to me, have the ability to love him."

"Thank you, Thranduil."

"I should be thanking you, my dear. And let me tell you something, something my son wishes to come from me. May time keep you well, the both of you, for the ages to come."

She smiled, a great lightness filling her heart. For a brief moment, Hithiel saw happiness flicker in the king's eyes before drifting back into the depths. A loud chirp drew their gaze to the door, where Nerthus sat – features grave – with body hunched over as though defeated.

"Nerthus," Hithiel started, standing. The princess stood as well, but shook her head at the floor. "What happened?"

"She has begun to fade," Nerthus answered, words dropping like stones. Hithiel blinked, unable to process the words as Nerthus turned to leave. "We have little time…"

"Take me to her," Hithiel demanded and Nerthus opened her mouth to speak, but stopped. "I might be able to help."

"Nothing can help!" Nerthus shouted and a silvery tear slipped out of her ruby eyes. "My brother was right – let sleeping dogs lie."

"Nerthus, you cannot seriously-,"

"I can and will, Hithiel, daughter of Faeion!" Her words were fueled by huffs of black and violet flame as she lunged forward. "Nothing we have tried will bring her back. We might as well let her die."

"You cannot seriously think that this will fix anything."

"It is, now stop trying to fix it." The princess left the shadows to leave, leave far to the east where her family lived. And Hithiel frowned, walking out of the room to hopefully find someone – someone that would tell her the truth.

~.~.~

Legolas watched her. She was unmoving, breath barely able to be seen by his eyes, and deathly gaunt. He ran his fingers across her forehead, feeling the cold skin beneath his touch. She was beautiful once – a bright, wonderful elleth – now shattered. Elrohir had found her like this, broken and lying on the floor of Erestor's library. He assumed that she gave up while the dragons had flown off, or had simply given up. This elleth was not his sister, his sister was kind, a tad stern, but never weak.

"Coruwen, please," He managed through the pain lancing his heart.

"This is similar to Mother," Elrohir noted. Legolas did not turn his head, but listened to Elrohir speak. "For a long time she was fine, but one day she simply collapsed and Father became grief stricken beyond words. I feel as though I'm in that same position again where I can do nothing."

"She has done this before, but she woke up a few days later as though it were nothing." Legolas said the back of his stroking her cheek. "It pains me to see her like this once again."

"How do you think Grandfather will be?"

Legolas looked up, his gaze falling on the door. "I-I have no idea. I do not know Lord Celeborn as well as you."

"Elladan thinks he will turn into a grieving mess. I, however, believe that he will keep it hidden."

"Either way, we need to fix this."

Elrohir shrugged, "Glorfindel broke her – he needs to be the one to fix her."

"Then why are we not speaking with him?"

"Erestor is trying as we speak, Legolas. Glorfindel has shut himself pretty tightly within his mind. I know he cares for her, but he is just as broken as she."

Legolas stood, the tiniest flicker of wrath's fire awakening in him. "How could he let her die? If he loves her then why not save her?"

"If I knew why, I would tell you."

Elladan returned to them with Celeborn behind him. Celeborn swept past his grandson, his noble countenance vanished and replaced with one of concern. Legolas moved beside Elrohir, watching Celeborn speak to Coruwen in a low voice that none of them could hear. And then he sat up with his face neutral.

"How did she come to this?" Celeborn asked, his voice dreadfully cold. Legolas swore that the three of them did not speak because they feared what might happen if they did. His father, who was known for holding icy tones of voice, did not come close to the bitter voice of Celeborn. He was like a wolf protecting an injured pup. "I am going to ask again, how did she come to this?"

Elrohir, being a tad braver than the other two, spoke, "Grandfather, we are not exactly sure. We found her collapsed. What… What has happened to her?"

Celeborn's eyes fell on the ground, a clear sign of grief. "She has slipped out of this world and into the world between the Halls of Mandos and the Shadowlands. I can reach the space in which she is trapped, but I do not know if I can convince her or even reach her."

"Can any of us go?" Elladan asked, but Celeborn gave a slight shake of his head. "Why?"

"Someone who wishes to go into the Shadowlands must be ample enough to withstand the tricks of the mind. Legolas could possibly do it, but if he were to become lost…"

Legolas' mind thought of Hithiel, of what would transpire if he was to become lost – she would be terribly upset; grief stricken. He shook his head; he loved Coruwen but also loved Hithiel.

"Glorfindel could do it," Elrohir suggested and Elladan scowled. "Brother, put it aside – he could easily help her."

"He _hurt_ her, Elrohir… I will not simply let this slide," Elladan countered, crossing his arms.

"It was an act of jealously. It happens more than we think," His twin returned, and Elladan shook his head. "Elladan…"

"As much as I agree with you, Elladan – Elrohir has a point," Celeborn intervened, and Legolas silently thanked the lord for taking the two of them away from each other emotionally. "Glorfindel is quite powerful spiritually. One of you, go find him."

"Grandfather," Elrohir muttered. The lord looked at his grandson with a strangely neutral gaze and Elrohir trudged out of the room. Legolas looked at Elladan, who had dark fire flickering in his grey eyes. He took the opportunity to leave the room, only to bump into Hithiel.

"Hithiel," Legolas breathed as she tucked herself into him. "Were.. Were you with Father?"

"Was," Hithiel replied into his doublet. He pulled her aside into the shadows, allowing her to look up at him. Arctic blue eyes regarded him kindly as he searched her from some sort of injury. Her hands halted his frantic movements, and whispered, "I'm fine."

"Why did you leave Father?" He hissed. She looked past him to the glowing light of Coruwen's room, and motioned with her head. He flicked his gaze between her and the room. "There is little hope for her…"

"Not you as well!" She pushed away, anger causing her to scowl at him. "First Nerthus and now you. She will come back, I know it."

"Hithiel, I love her – she is my sister – but she is fading and her uncle cannot reach her. She is more than likely dead."

"I do not believe you."

"Do you? Or will you not because you can feel it in your heart?"

"Legolas, enough… I have faith – unlike the rest of you."

"Hithiel, please-,"

She raised a hand, stopping him from speaking any further. Her face became neutral suddenly, a mask of pure bridled frustration that Legolas found strange. Coruwen spoke an opinion when angered or raised her voice. Hithiel became quiet, a quiet that was unsettling to his spirit.

When he tried to speak, he heard footfalls echo up the hallway. To his surprise, he saw Glorfindel following Elrohir. The lord was not himself in appearance – his hair darker, eyes ringed by purplish circles, and stature lacking great nobility. And yet, at one point, Legolas had been jealous of him. Now, because of a foolhardy mistake upon his and Coruwen's part, the two people that he both respected and disliked were suffering.

"It has come to this, Glorfindel," Celeborn stated. Legolas tensed up as though Celeborn were referring to him rather than the lord. "It seems that time finally has broken her."

"I understand your hatred for me, Celeborn. But I will tell you that none of this was my doing," Glorfindel answered, his voice calm – strangely calm that worried Legolas. He gripped Hithiel's hand and pulled her inside of the room beside the twins. "I did not mean for it to come this far."

"But it has," Celeborn said, gazing over at Glorfindel. The gaze was dangerous, predatory almost as though it was meant to intimidate him or make him feel lesser than he already was. However, if Legolas saw Glorfindel without knowing any of the circumstances at hand – he would have assumed the ellon to be grieving or fading.

Glorfindel sat on the edge of the bed, his hand passing over Coruwen's face. "What has befallen her?"

"She has slipped into a void – a pocket, if you will – between Mandos' hall and the Shadowlands," Glorfindel stiffened at Celeborn's words.

"Are you truly positive about that?"

"Are you suggesting that I am wrong?"

"No, I believe you. I believe I will be able to find her."

Celeborn nodded. "You know the rules of the Shadowlands then?"

"Of course," Legolas saw the lord pass his hand over Coruwen's face once again. "I swear, I will bring her back."

Celeborn chuckled dryly, "Make no promises to me or to the others. If you come back then I will hold you to your promise and if not… Well, if you do not return then I was wrong about you."

~.~.~

"How long has it been?" Hithiel asked, resting her head on Legolas' shoulder. He turned his head, watching her pale tresses slip between his fingers. The twins had left some time ago with their Grandfather, leaving the two of them to watch Glorfindel and Coruwen. The golden lord had bowed his head in rest against Coruwen's.

"I lost track of time, love," Legolas answered, resting his chin on her head. She let out a sleepy sigh and tucked herself against his chest. Her fingers traced circles on his chest and he began to think that she was possibly worried. "Worried?"

"No, thinking," Hithiel murmured back. "I know this sounds a tad silly, but what are the Shadowlands exactly?"

"It is something few know about; even I am uncertain what they truly are. All I know is that the Wraiths come from there."

"And everything within is an illusion, and all must climb," Erestor's voice finished from the doorway. Legolas flicked his gaze to the door to find Erestor leaning on the doorway slightly, but his gaze was held on Glorfindel.

"Climb, climb what?"

"The destructive force known as wrath, envy, jealousy, and control - Sin, for lack of a better term. And Glorfindel will have to fight one of these things, or possibly all of them depending if he lets the illusions guide his path. We can no longer help Glorfindel now; he is in the hands of Mandos and the other Valar now."

"Can anything find him there?" Hithiel asked, and Erestor shrugged.

"My lady, I wish I knew. Spirits of all kinds must linger there and will try to stop him."

"I hope he will return with her, they both have suffered too long."

Erestor nodded, "I grow tired of Glorfindel moping and Coruwen being mute. I find their attitudes unsettling."

Legolas watched Hithiel bury her face in his chest, worried. He agreed with her – he wished for their return, he wished to see Coruwen smile and laugh once again, to see her be happy. He missed her, he missed the one he called sister. However, fate has a nasty set of teeth and claws.

* * *

_So, its official, my brain is starting to wrap up this story. Yes, we're coming to the end, but do not fear guys - we have a few more chapters here and then we are moving onto the final installment of this story's tale. It actually has a name all ready if you can believe it- Fire and Blood, I have named it. Hopefully, many of you will join me in Fire and Blood. _

_Anyway, if you guys have questions, ideas, anything of that sort please ask and tell away. I will be happy to answer you! _

_As always, favorite, follow, and review! _

_-Princess _


	31. Chapter 31

_So, a few things before we get started with chapter as to clear up any confusion. _

_-I have no idea if Orcrist truly belonged to Ecthelion of the Fountain or not. Glamdring belonged to King Turgon, but I'm not sure who possessed Orcrist in Gondolin. The only person that truly possessed Orcrist was Thorin - to my knowledge, someone correct me if I got it wrong. _

_-The Shadowlands are not exactly called that in Tolkien's words, oops. But anyway, this area that Coruwen slipped into isn't in the realm of the Ring Wraiths like Celeborn said. _

_-The illusions that Glorfindel sees are things that I assume would either unnerve him or scare him or anything of that sort. Gondolin was one of them I was sure about because what happened was terrible. _

_-Coruwen's names spoken here are Quenya, which is the language of Valinor, or rather it is what the Noldor used all those years ago. I could become super technical on why Coruwen's names previously used are in Sindarin, but it would take up a whole bunch of AN space. Long story longer, it was Galadriel that changed her names. (if you want to read more into it with me, look at the bottom.) _

_-Finally, some of the mental images might be sort of... Unnerving or weird. You have been warned. _

* * *

_**One World**_

* * *

The sky was empty; lifeless, mirthless, or any other word one would like to think of for this day. Clouds churned slowly, trees were black, malformed fingers, and there were whispers, whispers of fear and death in his ears. Glorfindel felt the crunch of the dirt beneath his boots as he walked along, staring up at the sky.

But he didn't come this far to stare at the sky.

He had to find her, to find Coruwen, to bring her home. In this world, he was not a lord or a slayer of Morgoth's spawns – he was merely an elf – wandering in this twisted world. Walking along, he felt as though molten steel had filled his bones, everything felt… weighted. He stopped, his body lagging behind as he did so, to raise a hand into his vision. Staring at his hands, he curled the ligaments in a testing manner to find that he indeed was feeling the effects of this world all ready.

If he didn't find Coruwen, at least he would no longer be glowered at by Celeborn. His hand ran up the length of a malformed tree, allowing his body to regain everything it had lost.

"_She is in a pocket between Mandos' Halls and the Shadowlands,"_ His mind replayed Celeborn's words like a metallic music box, over and over again. Valar, he had gotten himself into a mess. He halted the jumbled mess of words in his mind, and let out a breath.

"Find her," He murmured to himself as he started along once again. The world seemed to repeat itself, mirthless sky mixed with the same trees and the same ground with the haunting whispers. The tiniest twinge of anger's fire flickered in his blood, and he started turning in circles like a hound chasing its tail, looking for a new path. "Can I not win?"

"Sure," A voice laughed. He whipped to face the voice, eyes searching wildly for the source. "It certainly has been a _long_ time, Laurëfindel."

Few used that name, few knew of it for that matter, or rather, they only used when he wasn't paying that person any mind. But that voice resonated within him, and he glanced over slightly. Standing on a rock - graceful and as agile as a cat – was Ecthelion…

"Now this is a trick," Glorfindel whispered and Ecthelion cocked an eyebrow. "Did you fall into this place as well?"

His friend hopped down from the rock, shaking his head with ebony hair slipping into his eyes. "You truly do have a poor memory, Laurëfindel," He commented dryly.

Glorfindel inwardly scowled and he blinked – for a mere flicker of darkness was this entire world needed to morph into the fallen city of Gondolin. White stone was charred, screams could be heard, and there was fire – dragon fire and Balrog fire alike – scarring the city.

The chill of dread crept into his blood. An unwanted feeling that made him involuntarily shiver, but he held Ecthelion's azure gaze.

"What… Why am I here?" He managed. His friend smiled and turned back to the burning city, their city, as it crumbled from the dark forces. Ecthelion rotated Orcrist at his hip as he lolled his head from side to side. _"Ecthelion…_"

"Poor memory, poor Glorfindel," Ecthelion lamented, turning back. Glorfindel jumped at the sight of his friend. His skin! He was turning ashen with skin pulling tight like a bat's. "You… Never did remember anything about Gondolin. You chose to forget, to forget me, Idril, Turgon, everyone! _You. Left. Us." _

"I was reincarnated, Ecthelion…."

Orcrist hissed from its sheath. This place… This place was formed out of lies and shadows, he told himself. None of this is real. None of it! But the Shadowlands are tricky, the mirror is not one sided here, but rather two sided.

It certainly seemed that way, by the cool nip of steel against his cheek from Orcrist. The blade stared at him, hissing and spitting like a rigid snake being wielded by his long-passed friend.

"Come back to us, Glorfindel," Ecthelion whispered, pushing Orcrist against the hollow of his throat. He swallowed, feeling the blade press harder against the thin skin. His friend's voice took on a cold bite, "You left us… You left us all to die, to rot beneath the claw and sword of Melkor."

"I did no such thing!" He shouted, jerking his head a bit to the side. Heat slithered down his throat allowing the cold of Orcrist to seep into his muscles. "I died so that Idril and the other could escape."

"Yet here you are," The lord hissed back. "Mandos was kind enough to give _you_ life-,"

"And the same is for you! One day, Ecthelion, you and I will see each other once again." His throat felt dry, like a wad of wool was lodged in his throat. It made it hard to speak, hard to keep his head even. "Just, lower the sword."

Orcrist never yielded from his throat, but pressed harder and he gasped in a breath. Ecthelion could kill him so easily like a puppet being threatened with a knife to its strings. He could hear his heart in his ears, his pulse in his clenched hands – everything was alit with adrenaline to the point of nausea. Frantically, he began to search for a possible weapon to use. Broken rocks, snapped twigs lit with fire, but nothing that was plausible.

"Look how easy it is," Ecthelion said and Glorfindel looked back at him. The tight skin and sunken eyes made him hard to look at. A living corpse, he thought. "If you move, you can kill yourself. If I move, then well…" Orcrist flicked, and the snake slithered down his neck once again.

"_Illusions in the Shadowlands are meant to be climbed…_" Erestor's voice echoed and Glorfindel narrowed his eyes. He raised a hand, at an agonizingly slow pace, toward Orcrist. If he could just grab the blade.

A loud thump shook the ground. And he knew that distinct sound, the sound of rocks crunching and flames hissing. His heart beat in time with the shakes, and his mind started to race – telling him over and over to grab Orcrist and be done with it. But if Ecthelion saw, he wouldn't make out of this world. His gaze flicked down at the sword, then to Ecthelion, and then in the direction of the shaking.

"Strange, there's an internal clock here," His friend mused, flicking one bony hand. He smiled a dangerously wicked smile. "He hears our hearts..."

His fingers pressed up against the cool steel and it rang out like a pleasant bell, it welcomed him. Many a time in that moment, he swore his own heart was the cause of the shaking, not the Balrog. His hand curled around the sharpened edge of the blade, and he pulled.

"What are you-?" Ecthelion gasped as Orcrist slipped from his hand and into the bloodied of his once friend's. "Glorfindel! The Valar damn you!"

Glorfindel pushed aside the steel that slowed him and let Orcrist bite and he let it bite Ecthelion seven times. Though his own hand often slipped with his slick blood, he overcame it by plunging Orcrist into Ecthelion's neck. And something twisted, twisted… wrongly.

"You are not him, you never were," Glorfindel whispered as Ecthelion's illusion turned into ashes beneath his boot. He balanced Orcrist's tip to the white stone and lowered himself onto a fallen pillar. His body ached; truthfully it ached in places that he hadn't felt for nearly an age. Glorfindel raised a hand to the cut on his neck, feeling the blood and cut there, and then it went to his right hand were Orcrist had cut him. Finally, his eyes landed on Orcrist, "Silly thing, you never were mine."

Standing, he continued on his way.

~.~.~

The land had changed once again to a land of moving shadows. Orcrist had stayed with him through the Gondolin encounter. Why was all of this happening? In his mind, he knew the answer but could not think of it at this moment. The lagging of the Shadowlands continued to drag him down, binding him to the earth.

He stared down at Orcrist once again, and looked at his reflection in its luster. He started to look like that representation of Ecthelion. Gaunt, sunken, in simpler terms – awful. Inwardly, he knew he did it to himself; Coruwen had done the same to herself through the depression of jealousy. But, he loved her despite the tension between the two. That much he could feel in the pit of his heart.

"You love her, but do you truly?" A deep voice whispered. He looked up instantly, having enough of this damned illusions sneaking up on him. Thorin and Legolas stared over at him. Thorin crossed his arms, shifting his weight around. "You stopped the world in which she lived. I thought my death was enough to hurt my Dragon Queen, but you…" He sighed, shaking his head. "You broke her back; you broke the woman we care for."

"I had no intention of doing so," Glorfindel said, using Orcrist to keep him from falling to his knees as the weight tripled upon his soul.

"Yet you did," Thorin challenged. Fire spat inside of his heart. "Coruwen is fragile, this you know, but your jealousy blinded you."

"What blinded me is of no concern to you. What happened was a mistake, a mistake that I caused. Yes, I blame myself for hurting her, and yes I knew that one day it would happen – but what could I do? I am trapped."

"If you try hard enough, you can overcome anything. You trapped yourself and her with you. Your jealousy was the means to an end."

A twinge of darkness pricked his heart, and he frowned. Surely, the illusion in front of him was merely a way to taunt him, to make him flustered, but no matter what he told himself in his mind, the illusions – all of them thus far – seemed too real. The illusion before him of Thorin was meant to test him, to test his love or rather his heart's jurisdiction.

He tapped Orcrist's tip on the ground, the dirt muffling the clink of the metal on the rock. His chest was tight, his breathing seeming to take too much effort. Thorin's eyes watched him as if knowing the problems before him. He thought about speaking to find the answer he needed to move on, but Thorin smirked and shifted his gaze back to Legolas.

Staring at the prince, he came to the realization that Thorin was not the illusion. Ecthelion had begun to warp in front of him when his mind started analyzing the people, or person, before him. Legolas' image flickered, and he turned away from them. His shadow elongated and rose from its master's body so it wrapped around his shoulders and head resembling… His heart stopped.

"What is this?" Glorfindel hissed, glancing down at Thorin.

The previous king sighed, "The illusions you face are your fears."

The shadows rippled, followed by the grinding and clatter of armor. The figure turned, taking on the figure of the Witch-King of Angmar. This land was _his_ land after all, but Glorfindel's fear of him was small. He was dumbfounded – why would it choose Legolas and then the Witch-King?

"Would you care to explain?" Glorfindel asked, taking a step back to raise Orcrist. The steel hummed quietly as it reflected the Nazgûl's gaunt features in its surface. "Thorin!"

"Explain what to you? I do not need to hold your hand and guide you through this place, do I? You came here to find Coruwen, and that is all you need to know."

Curse dwarves and their damned stubbornness! He resisted the urge to reply, and found that his hand gripped Orcrist in a deadly embrace. His eyes bore down on Thorin, who looked up at him in such a way that reminded him of a puppy. "You will tell me what is going on after I finish him, understand?"

"Entirely," The king folded his hands behind his back and sauntered away a safe distance from him and the Nazgûl.

The Nazgûl hissed, bounding toward him at a speed that was unmatched by an animal or man. One clawed gauntlet gripped his throat, knocking the air from his lungs as his body was tossed aside. He rolled onto his back, inwardly cursing himself for slipping up. This land was going to be the death of him, he was sure of it. He pushed himself up, his bloodied hand loosening its grip on Orcrist but he clawed it closer to himself. The Nazgûl rushed at him once again, its boot coming into contact with his stomach as it tackled him to the ground once again. Clawed fingers raked at him wildly, scratching his throat and the fabric at his chest.

With a yell, he tossed the Nazgûl aside and drove Orcrist into the creature's cloak. It collapsed, hands clawing at the ground to get away. The sword released the creature's cloak, and it shot forward while Glorfindel walked after it until it cornered itself against a boulder. He drove the sword into the Nazgûl's chest with a deafening crack followed by resistance. Bones were merely twigs before the might of the sword he wielded.

"I see exhaustion is coming to you quite quickly," Thorin commented behind him as he removed Orcrist from the Nazgûl's chest. He turned, eyes shut, facing Thorin fully. He was beginning to become annoyed with this land. Much of it was like running in circles. "Now,"

"No," Glorfindel snapped, fixing his posture. The dwarf cocked an eyebrow at him but he paid it no mind. "Explain, now."

"All right, fine," Thorin replied, motioning for him to follow. As he followed, Thorin started. "This place is a mystery, but I know this much – this place is feeding on your fear, Glorfindel."

"I do not fear the Nazgûl, I no longer fear Ecthelion or Gondolin, or anything I have seen," He told the dwarf in front of him.

"You _did_ fear all of those things, and they remain in your inner most worlds, far from the prying eyes of others. But you do fear Legolas, you fear loss, _and,_" Thorin whipped around, startling Glorfindel into a halt. "You fear what may become of Coruwen if you do not find her."

He wasn't sure how to answer Thorin – for he spoke the truth, the truth that stung his pride greatly. Truly, he had no choice but to nod slowly. Every part of shuddered in fear – he was truly terrified for her.

"I did this," Glorfindel whispered and Thorin physically perked up at the sound of his words. "I caused her death; it is my fault she is like this! I loved her, but I broke her. I think the world of her. I see in her a different light than other ellith, or other women for that matter. Yet here I am, wandering around in the dark for her because of my mistake." His mind collapsed, shaking its head. "I lost everything, because of my mistake."

"There," Thorin laughed and Glorfindel looked up to see the king smirking lightly. "I will admit that I fouled up my relationship with her more than once. But as much as I was not willing to admit my failures, I knew it was the only way to get her back. You just did something I could have never done."

"Why?"

The dwarf shrugged, "I believe it is you elves call _pride._"

"We all have pride but-," He stopped himself, a deep sense of enlightenment washing over him. "May I ask why you are here?"

The dwarf tipped up his head as though in knowledge of something Glorfindel did not. His stomach knotted tightly in response to Thorin turning and walking away.

"Coruwen said you would ask me that," He said as he let out a breath that almost mimicked a sigh. "She is lost somewhere, and needs someone to find her. Quickly. Whatever fears try and take your life or sway your judgment, you must not fail."

"Thorin, I understand but answer me this." The dwarf faced him, crossing his arms, clearly agitated. His eyes reminded him of Freya's – the sense of protective nature and royalty was surely in him as it was in the dragoness. "Why are you here and not – for say – Freya?"

"Because, without me, you would not know our Dragon Queen."

"What do you mean?"

"One day, you will know as much as I, Glorfindel. She has hidden much from you to keep at a distance, but with me," He gestured to the world around him, "She was young and less… Damaged."

"Are you saying I have been staring at a ruse?" His voice rose a bit in frustration to which Thorin raised his hands in defense.

"No, I am not. You know her, but scars run deep – physically and mentally."

The livid stir his blood had in that moment faded, banking deep within his heart. Thorin was right and he knew it. Yes, he had seen her, but had not _seen_ her. One day, he might – this much he hoped.

~.~.~

"You did what?!" Freya shouted, her tail thumping against a tree, toppling it over. Heimdall stared down at Nerthus with a raised eye ridge and she panting black smoke. Elathan looked up at her, teal eyes unfazed by her outrage. Cheeky, little-! "Why did you leave her, boy?"

Elathan plopped himself onto the ground, crossing his paws like the pompous little brat he was at this moment. Freya loved each of her children, but Earth Mother help her, her youngest was by far the most pompous out of the bunch.

"_He is my Mother's grandson," _Heimdall said in her mind. She shot him a dark look, trying to contain her anger. Fire drakes had a nasty, nasty temper to match their flames.

"We left her because there is no hope, Monah," Elathan stated coolly. She eyed her son, staring him dead in the eyes like she would his father. "She is dying, or dead, currently. You might as well give up on her, she is no more."

"Elathan, son of Heimdall!" Freya shouted at the top of her lungs. Her voice thundered throughout the narrow valley, shaking the mountains and frightening every living creature within range. Her son blinked like a moonstruck animal up at her. Her chest tightened as her breaths became ragged, uncontrollable pants. "Never, say that in my presence again or I will return you to the Earth Mother and The Father understand!"

Elathan swallowed and nodded. Good lad, she thought darkly. But deep within her soul, she felt Coruwen's life clinging to her still. Her chosen, like her son had said, was fading away. Her claws ticked against the carved stone throne beneath her paws. If she could reach Coruwen, perhaps that would change something. But her duty lay here in this Valley.

"Go on, I don't wish to see you for a long while – all four of you," Freya ordered, shooing Freyr away from her hind quarters. He chirped in annoyance, but sulked after his siblings as they all trotted out into the desolate land. When they had passed out of sight, she let out a tiny noise – a noise she had not made for ages that sounded between a whimper and a sigh. "Father help us."

"My Fire-Scales," Heimdall whispered, giving her a gentle nudge with his snout. She bumped snouts with him, looking into his mystical eyes. "She will be fine."

"Heimdall, how can you be so sure?" She asked in a mournful tone. A smile quirked up the sides of his lips a bit, which made heat blossom in her chest. She shut her eyes and rubbed the side of her face against his before tucking it beneath his chin. "I fear for her, you know."

"I know, dearest," Heimdall answered back. She inhaled the scent of his scales, and swallowed the lump in her throat. "I have faith – however small – that we will see her once again. For better or for worse."

In her mind, she secretly prayed that the latter would never happen. "Would things have played out differently if she had chosen Legolas?"

Heimdall shook his head, "No, they would have been just the same." Her eyes narrowed a bit, not understanding her husband's logic. He breathed mist onto her back, cooling her hot scales. "Either way, she would have made the same mistakes with, or without, Legolas or Glorfindel as potential mates."

"Husband… Explain, if you will."

He nuzzled the top of her head. "One day, Freya. One day…"

~.~.~

He had it about up to here with this little pocket in time and space.

Glorfindel stared at the gates before him, listening to them grind and swing open for him. Thorin's illusion had vanished and Orcrist had snapped in two when he fought against another one of his fears, Smaug. The dragon struck far more fear into than he would have liked, but nonetheless the dragon was a fear.

Slipping through the gate, he looked at the world ticking around him. Images of this world were beginning to stretch like sketches in a drawing book. The gates groaned shut, making him jump. He was far more nervous that he thought he was. But looking around, this area looked to once be a courtyard, though the trees were distorted and the plants shriveled into husks of black. He stopped down and lightly touched one of the dead plants, only to find that its bud cracked into his palm. A touch of sadness came to him when the dead plant crumbled into shards of ash under his gaze.

And then his ears picked up the sound of an airy voice singing lightly. He straightened, searching for the voice's origins. The voice led him to see her, to see Coruwen, sitting in the middle of the courtyard. Though it did not appear like her at first. Her hair was dull, no longer the color of molten gold and her skin paler than parchment.

"Coruwen," He breathed, relieved to see her sitting there before him. He walked up to her, but she did not regard him with even a single glance. "Coruwen, look at me." She blinked with her gaze held on the nothingness around them. He knelt in front of her and placed his hand on her knee causing her to gasp.

"Who are you?" Coruwen asked with eyes glassy from fear. His heart shuddered in grief at the sight of her as he raised a hand to her cheek, running his thumb across her cheekbone. Her eyes flicked to his hand and with shaky fingers, she placed her hand on his. "Do I know you?"

Her voice was soft, like a mouse's, and he kept his own voice low to possibly calm her. "Coruwen, I am here to bring you back home," He said.

"There is nothing left for me, everyone has forgotten me," She answered, her voice cracking a bit.

"No, my dear, everyone is worried about you. Hithiel, Legolas, Thranduil, the twins-," He stopped himself, his voice feeling as though it would snap at any moment from the pent up grief that tumbled inside of him. Her eyes looked past him, but he could see the crystalline shine of tears starting to form on the edges of her eyes, "Your uncle most of all."

"You sound sad," Coruwen took his hand and rubbed it with her slender fingers. "I understand that Uncle is worried for me. But even he is not the one I would return home for." Her features changed into a mask of grief. "I lost them… I lost my dragons, every one of them I loved like my own children or my dearest sibling. They meant the world to me, but now they have all passed on into a land in which I cannot follow." She took a deep breath as though to steady herself. "And I lost the ellon I loved."

He chewed the inside of his cheek to stop himself from speaking. She was looking directly at him – the ellon that she claimed to have lost. Coruwen raised a hand and swept back strands of her dull, gold hair behind her ear.

"How did you lose him?" Glorfindel asked in a quiet voice, sitting beside her.

"Why…? Why are you curious about it?"

He smiled, a sorrowful smile, but at least he managed one despite her being unable to see him. "Like you said, you sound sad."

A soft smile crept onto her face, a beautiful, shy smile that he loved. Her hands squeezed his own. "I loved him, I still do, you see. But he became dreadfully jealous, and… we fought. In that moment, I lost him and I lost him forever. I wish for him to come back, I do not hate him, no - I have never hated him or despised him… All I want is to see him smile again, or hear his laugh or feel his touch once again."

His throat tightened up, "Do you blame yourself for what happened?"

"Yes, yes I do. If I had not allowed Legolas to kiss me, then none of this would have ever happened."

"But you did…" A tear slipped down her face and her smile dropped. "My dear, you do not have to weep."

She laughed, "You sound like him… My Glorfindel." And then she blinked, and looked up at him. Slowly, as if putting the pieces together, she analyzed him. Her hands rose, cupping his face to hold his gaze. Coruwen dropped her hands from his face, snapping them back into her lap. "You… Who are you?"

He smiled, "_Laurëfindel._"

Coruwen's face morphed into one of confusion. "Truly?"

"Yes, your uncle sent me to come and find you."

She shook her head, "No, you could not be him. He despises me for what I did."

She started to move to stand, but his hand snapped out to pull her back. Her eyes were wide with mild fear, and he refused to let her go. He had come so far for her, and he realized that everything he had done was because of her – the fall, this little adventure, everything.

"Please, Coruwen, come home," Glorfindel said, locking gazes with her.

Coruwen shook her head and fought him, her nails scratched at his hand and attempted to pull away, but he kept her in his grasp. She fought him like unbroken horse, fighting and flinging herself away from him until she was out of breath and trembling. She collapsed at his feet, dragging him down to her level.

"Why?" She breathed, her eyes glassy once again. "Why do you persist?"

He wrapped an arm around her, but her hands lay against his chest, stopping him. "Because, I was a fool. I will not say that I was wrong in what happened, because it lies in the past now. But over time, I realized that my actions could have been solved in a different way. Fighting like two ravenous wolves was certainly no way to fix our problems and neither was letting ourselves fall like this."

"Glorfindel, the fault was upon both of us. You reacted and I did something that shook our love a bit too… roughly."

"_Laurëiel_," He whispered to draw her gaze up. The use of Quenya made her glance up, eyes slightly forgiving. "Are you ready to go home?"

"Yes," Glorfindel stood and pulled her up with him with one her hands still lingering on his chest. "Perhaps… We could convince Uncle to allow us to court once more."

"He is rather resentful of me after what happened last time."

Coruwen let out a tiny laugh, "Let me see what I can do."

~.~.~

Coruwen cracked open her eyes, light nearly blinding her as she stared up into the white ceiling. If she were a cat, she would have hissed at the blinding light in her eyes as she took stock of everything around in her vision. Her body was heavy, her mind fuzzy, but she felt something touch her hand. Her eyes flicked over to Hithiel, who was sitting at her side nearly in tears at the sight of her.

"Hithiel," She whispered with a small smile. The elleth ran her hand across Coruwen's forehead, and she let out a breathy laugh. But against her cheek, Coruwen felt something cool, like metal… Sitting up – though her body complained – she took Hithiel's right hand. Nearly all of her breath was swept out of her in that moment at the sight of a silver ring engraved with ivy vines upon her friend's hand. "He… He did it, finally."

Hithiel snapped her hand back, blushing a shade of crimson as she rubbed the ring on her hand. Coruwen's heart did a small flip of joy for her friend. "You have been asleep for a long while. Lord Celeborn, Glorfindel, and Erestor are currently speaking about your well being. Do you want me to stop them?" Hithiel asked, but Coruwen shook her head.

"Did Glorfindel leave after he returned to this plane?" Hithiel shrugged, standing. "I suppose you have not had that ring for very long."

Hithiel shook her head, white hair slipping free of its braid but a smile was set into her features. Hithiel was delicate and beautiful, like a moonflower or morning glory. But as she thought about her friend, Hithiel came up and started pricking her fingers with a needle causing her to hiss in the sudden jolt of nerves awakening from their languid state.

"I'm sorry – if you had not been asleep for so long I would not be hard pressed to do this," Her friend whispered in apology. Though Coruwen knew she was right, she could not help the feeling of annoyance in the gestures. After finishing, she curled her hand into a fist a few times. "Is there anything you need of me while I'm here?"

"No, Hithiel, I'm fine," She replied as her friend set the needle back into a pincushion. She tapped each of her fingers like Hithiel had done, but listened to the voices outside of her door. She could pick each voice out as the whispers became harsher and more hurried. Finally, her uncle came through the door, his gaze held on the lords behind him. Upon seeing her, he froze. "Uncle…"

Celeborn gilded across the room to her, sitting beside her and gently taking her into his embrace. She buried her face into her uncle's shoulder with a great sense of relief washing over her.

"My nightingale," Celeborn whispered into her hair before kissing her forehead. A joyful sadness tore through her and she pulled away from him, not wanting to spill any tears. Her gaze flicked over to Erestor, who gave her a dip of his head, and then to Glorfindel, who had stepped into the shadows nearest the hearth.

"Hithiel, my dear, would you like to follow me for a moment – there is something I need your help with," Erestor said with a fox like smirk. Her friend followed him out of the room and Coruwen saw Glorfindel appear from the shadows to stand near the end of her bed. She met his gaze for a brief moment before returning it to Celeborn.

"Uncle," She said in a soft voice. She desperately hoped he would allow the two of them to court once more. His blue gaze regarded her, almost trying to analyze what she was thinking. "Uncle, I have been thinking, or rather I came to the conclusion while in the Shadowlands, that I was wrong to have done this to myself." Celeborn didn't make a sound, but his countenance became a tad confused. "I was wrong… Glorfindel and I both were wrong to have done this to ourselves. And being in that place, I was alone – no one was there and I did not recognize him until I had no other option than to believe it was him."

Celeborn took his gaze away from her to look up at Glorfindel. His gaze was dark, a venomous gaze that no being – Valar or otherwise – could withstand easily. She likened the gaze to an adult wolf protecting its injured pup from another wolf.

"I have no idea what you said to her, Glorfindel. But if you wish to court my niece, then I would grant it under the pretense that you show me that you will no longer hurt her. In fact, I wish it upon you that the Valar grant you beautiful children, so that one may find a being they love only for them to be-," Celeborn whispered, his tone dangerous and icy.

"Uncle, that's enough," Coruwen scolded, taking a hold of his wrist. He halted his speech, taking a step back toward her. "Aunt Galadriel would not want this," Celeborn's dark gaze faltered as though effected by her words. "She believed that one day Glorfindel would come back to me, and low and behold – it has happened. She told me that once upon a time, you did this as well. You became bitterly jealous – only for you to come back to her."

"_Anniel,_" Celeborn murmured. "I was young then."

"And who is to say that Glorfindel and I are not in the same position as you and Aunt Galadriel were all those years ago? We _both_ were wrong to abandon the other. Though we made our mistakes, I am willing to take him back once more."

"_Anniel_," Her uncle shook his head, sighing, "I will consider it."

Coruwen smiled, and pressed a kiss to his cheek, "Thank you."

He nodded and left the room, but after he had passed out of hearing – she pinched the space between her eyes. Glorfindel sat beside her, taking her hand in his. Their gazes locked, eyes of different shades of blue meeting like the sea ceasing up to touch the sky. She was glad to be back in the world where she could see him and her family once again. She was back into the one world where her dragons were, and where she could be happy.

* * *

_-Anniel and Laureiel are Coruwen's Father and Mother names given to her by Finrod and Amarie when she was born. Her father used Sindarin in one of her previous visions because Galadriel sort of... Strong armed him into it. Seeing as Galadriel left Middle-Earth a while ago, there isn't a reason for people to hide her true names anymore. _

_Anyway, huzzah for long chapter because I neglected you guys last week!_

_As always, please fave, follow, and review! I love hearing from you all. :) _

_-Princess _


	32. Chapter 32

A Star

* * *

"And here I was beginning to think you had run off and hidden from me," Her prince laughed. Hithiel stopped her hands from working the tangles out of her hair to look back at him. She became unnerved at the sight of him, wondering of how long he had been standing there watching her. That was not to say that he had not watched her before. No, she found that he thought of it great fun to watch her, but would lie and say that he was merely passing by. She found her intended rather odd at times. But then again, there was no shortage of oddity in her family or his for that matter.

She smiled into her lap, a forced smile, as she picked up her brush and started fixing her hair. Her hair, for as straight as it was, matted worse than horse hair, it took pleasure in giving her grief. She had oiled her hair not long ago, and much of the lilac scent clung to her still, almost sickening her as her hair drifted in her face.

"Need help?" Legolas offered, coming into her vision from the side. Pulling her brush from her hair, she handed it to him like a child given up on a task. He sat on the edge of the seat, running the brush through her hair soundlessly while she inwardly lamented that she could not control her own hair. He brushed her hair until the light from the pale sun reflected upon its surface like beaten silver. He moved aside a section of her hair and kissed her temple, "Making yourself fret in such a manner will cause your hair to fall out."

Hithiel frowned, "What?" Her voice shrill as she snatched the brush from him. The passive look on his face made her heart shudder. "Legolas, please tell me you are simply jesting."

He stood, his eyes giving her no sign of playfulness. Her chest huffed like an indignant child when a smirk played across his face. Without warning or words, she swatted him on the arm and he turned away, laughing. Hithiel turned back to her mirror, looking at her hair hoping that an idea of what to do with it would come to her. Her fingers combed through it and began to pull at it in certain sections to make an easy braid.

"My father has changed his mind," Legolas said, pacing behind her. She watched him for a few moments, but then returned to her hair and gave him a polite hum in response. "He has made it mandatory for me to return to Eryn Lasgalen."

"And?" Hithiel urged, her curiously piquing at her prince's statement.

"And he plans on staying here. He wants to stay here and mope," He finished, annoyed. Hithiel spun in her seat, crossing her legs and rested her chin in her hand. Legolas' father had done well with his reasoning by not pushing his son toward the kingdom that he was to one day rule. Hithiel knew that Thranduil was getting tired of his son delaying the future. Assumptions had been made that he stayed for Coruwen, despite her being in the hands of her lords; others might have thought that he stayed for Hithiel. She did not know why he lingered here, but would have gone off to aid Aragorn if required of him.

"No wonder he pushes you," said Hithiel in a thoughtful voice. His grey eyes locked on her and he stopped pacing like an anxious wolf. She did not fear him, for he would not hurt her, but she was going to test him. Coruwen questioned him, why not her? "Legolas, you linger here when you are _needed_ in Eryn Lasgalen. Your father loves you, I love you, and your people love you. You miss the third part of this equation, love. Sitting here like a duck will get your people nowhere."

His expression was sour when he looked at her, but she remained neutral and forced the nervousness in her gut down. "Himon is controlling them quite well."

"Yes," She nodded, "but he is no king or prince. There is no royal blood in him. Your people need a king, someone to keep them in line. _You_ are a king, or rather a king's son, it is in your nature to rein in the lawbreakers and keep in line the people of the court, because surely they are but lions waiting to be released upon the other."

"Hithiel, I can't go home. Ithilien needs to be watched, and…"

"And what?" She rose and walked up to him to place her hands on his chest. "Do you linger because of me?" He shook his head. "Coruwen?"

His grey eyes met hers, and she saw the prince that sat beside Coruwen's side when she had fallen into that strange pocket in time. In his eyes, he was the nervous prince that she had not known.

"You stay because of her?" She asked with a voice she knew too well, a tiny almost mouse like voice. "Why?"

His arms slipped around her and she rested her cheek on his chest. His heart was such a familiar thing to her nowadays, she often found herself slipping under the waves of sleep when she heard it. His hands tightened around her waist.

"I fear she will slip away if I leave," He whispered, bowing his head to touch her shoulder. His hair graced her face like wisps of smoke from a fire, covering her senses with his scent. Once she had the same fear as he did, but it remained no longer. And yet, he feared it still.

Her fingers stroked his hair. It was slippery through her fingers when she tried to weave it through her digits. But the trick of soothing him was not enough, no; it was never enough to soothe him sometimes. His breath against her skin was shaky, like a frightened child's.

"I promise you, she is in safe hands. Glorfindel and Celeborn are doing all they can for her right now. You have seen her, she is healthy and bright once again," Hithiel assured him in an airy voice. "This fear you have is understandable, but it is no longer is required, love. The shadow over her has passed."

"So you believe, but shadow follows her like a stray hound."

She withheld a laugh, but caught the glimpses of his stormy eyes watching her from beneath his gold hair. There, in that moment was her prince. Pulling away from her shoulder, he looked down at her. One day, she hoped that all emotional grief and worry that stemmed from Coruwen would vanish, so that he would stop fretting like a mother hen. Though, she remembered Thranduil saying that Faemes was gifted with natural fretting. Hithiel knew that Legolas was doomed from the start, for Thranduil worried about the ones he loved like his son did. Shaking her head, she slipped out of his embrace to sit on her seat before the vanity. Absently, she stroked the ring on her right hand with her nails clicking against the divots and raised edges of the simple ring.

"Are you going to accompany me eastward?" Legolas' voice came from across the room, startling her. She blinked, not realizing the question asked of her for a moment. A soft smile came to her face, thinking of her prince's home. She had never left Imladris, her father had asked her not to from the time she could understand words, and the mere thought of leaving her home caused a mixture of nerves and confusion to settle in the pit of her stomach.

"Yes," She answered without a second thought. Her mind clamped a hand on her mouth before she continued. Legolas chuckled, shaking his head. "What? Have I done something to wrong you?"

"Valar no, my love," He crossed the room to her and went to one knee beside her. "You were simply so quick to answer. Did you give it any thought?"

"I did," A blush crept across her face as she said the words. "Though… Only for a second or two."

"Hithiel, I believe you will be fine traveling with me. Eryn Lasgalen is not what she used to be, I will tell you that much. It lacks the spiders, the orcs, and certainly the darkness that seemed to loom over our heads for years."

"And Smaug… I don't think you could ever forget him."

"No," Her prince smiled, a memory filled smile as he stood. "No, I don't think I could forget that dragon. He snores too loudly and keeps most of us on our toes."

"Is he as kind as Coruwen says he is?"

"I have found that it depends on whom or what is present. He is rather suspicious of people Coruwen has not introduced to him before, but does have a tendency to be gentler with females."

"Would he like me?"

"Of course… If I trust you, so shall he."

Her fingers knit together in her lap, tightening until they were pale. Despite Legolas' complete trust in her and in Smaug, she could not help but feel anxious. For one, she was leaving home and the other reason she could not quite put her finger on.

"Think nothing of Smaug, love." He kissed the top of her head, moving towards the door to depart. "Worrying yourself will do you no good."

"Says the one who has traveled all over Middle Earth and come back to tell the tale," As he laughed to her comment, it echoed down the long hallway before her room. She crossed the room to shut her door before changing.

Her room, ever since she could remember, had always been cold. It was as though the warm breath that coursed through the veins of Imladris had avoided her room. Winter seemed to like her walls, it enjoyed causing her to jump and gasp at the sudden temperature drops when she would drift out of bed. But her room was cold this day, far colder than any other to her, as she stepped out of her warmer clothes into a soft gown colored silver to almost match her hair.

Changed, she left her room to find Coruwen. The hallways were hissing with the whispers of the wind, ladies whose husbands had left them alone, of cats that prowled after mice, and the occasional outburst of a door being opened. But nonetheless, she found Coruwen sitting with Glorfindel. The two had not begun courting, for Coruwen's lord uncle had not given his permission quite yet. Hithiel knew that Celeborn was only delaying the future as best he could. The two were happy once again, they both laughed, they both spoke, and nothing could have stopped it.

Coruwen smiled, withholding a laugh behind pursed lips as Glorfindel spoke about his life in Gondolin. The lady had a tight grip on her lord's hand as he spoke. A sign that Hithiel found adorable. She stayed back in the shadows of the doorway, watching the two of them interact.

Coruwen's eyes drifted from Glorfindel to find her and she motioned for her to come near. She took a step into the room, and was quickly greeted by Nínim, Erestor's cat, who bumped her head up against her leg with a long, loud purr.

"I see Nínim found you," Glorfindel commented. Hithiel glanced up from the fluffy cat to meet the lord's gaze. He stood, "I think I must return Nínim to Erestor before he starts missing her. Heavens know if he lost this cat for more than an hour…"

"… It surely would be as though two bonded mates lost each other," Coruwen finished with a languid flick of her hand. Glorfindel raised an eyebrow before taking her hand to kiss the back of it. Hithiel remembered when Legolas had done it to her; she had blushed redder than a ripe berry. Coruwen, however, regarded him with a kind gaze and whispered a few words to him before he left the room with Nínim cradled in his arms. Coruwen turned her gaze to Hithiel at that moment, the same kind gaze turned upon her. "I saw Legolas leave with Thranduil… Are they having some sort of Father-son bonding hunt?"

Hithiel laughed, "I have no idea. All that I know is, is Thranduil is trying to convince Legolas to return to Eryn Lasgalen."

Coruwen's blue gaze widened a bit in surprise. "Truly?"

"Yes, truly. I… I had to convince him that all would be fine and to accept his father's requests."

Her lady hummed, her fingers playing with her royal blue dress. The color befit her quite well, it deepened the blue of her eyes and played a role in contrasting the brilliant gold of her hair. Hithiel touched her hair, it was paler than the moon, Legolas would say. But Coruwen's resembled the sun or beaten gold; it was beautiful. Her mother had named her after her hair, in fact _both_ of their mothers had, Coruwen had said.

Coruwen's gaze thinned as Hithiel touched the ends of her hair, "Hithiel, are you comparing yourself again?" She asked mildly.

Hithiel straightened, flushing red. "Y-Yes, I am. I am so sorry, my lady." Coruwen shook her head and sat up and approached her. Coruwen touched her hair to Hithiel's and slowly a smile came to her face. Confused, she asked, "What is it?"

"Legolas was right; your hair would put even the moon to shame… That or a moonstone," The lady replied in a simple fashion. "I have my father's hair according to Lord Elrond and my uncle. It is such a terrible thing."

"Your hair?"

Coruwen nodded, her gaze rising up to Hithiel's. "You and I are opposites, in truth. You are gifted with pale features – silvery hair and pale eyes – while I have bright features – gold hair and blue eyes."

Hithiel found a strange comfort in her lady's words. The kind of comfort one finds in a very dear friend or a sibling. Coruwen, since returning to this world, had become different. Erestor had likened her to a changing season, while the twins had said she was like her dragon, Freya. Freya had once walked this earth, and then had died, only to be reborn again as a true dragoness or rather as she should have been. All of those conjectures had conformed to Coruwen, but Hithiel did not care for them. She knew that her lady was happy once again, and ever since had been in good spirits. Coruwen turned, starting towards the window.

"Spring is coming sooner than what we thought," Coruwen murmured and Hithiel followed her shadow until the lady halted in front of the window seat. Her lady's hands folded behind her back and she sighed, "My uncle must find enjoyable to not give me the answer Glorfindel and I have been looking for."

"Looking for?" Hithiel knew the answer to her lady's statement. Though her tongue was like lead in her mouth, words could not form.

Coruwen smoothed down the folds in her skirts, "I have been awake and ample enough to move around for nearly three weeks now. My lord uncle is dodging me when I ask him about courting with Glorfindel. I have begun to think that he thinks of my lord unacceptable."

"He _did_ cause you a great deal of heartache as well as make you slip into a strange pocket, my lady," Coruwen glided past her, her slippers muffling her movements. Hithiel had never seen, much less seen, her lady move in such a fashion before. Blue silk swayed like waves around Coruwen as she paced, thinking. Hithiel sat on the edge of the window sill and watched Coruwen pace. _I was right_, she thought grimly. Aloud, she said, "Forgive my words, Lady Coruwen. They were wrong-,"

Coruwen held up a stern hand but her features were soft with grief, "No. No, Hithiel, you are correct. Glorfindel _has_ caused many tragedies, but we both are at fault."

"How will you convince your lord uncle then?"

Coruwen stopped, "I…I have no idea to be honest." Hithiel tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Coruwen looked at her hands, turning them as though they were foreign and her expression turned grave. "Aunt Galadriel was right about one thing…"

"That is… What, pray tell?"

Her lady's blue eyes locked onto hers, stern and fierce like dragonfire. If she looked long enough into her gaze, she swore she saw blue flame. "My lord uncle, as much as it pains me to say, is a jealous creature. As all men, whether Man or Elf, are."

Hithiel could not agree more, but she did not say these words. She folded her hands into the long bells sleeves of her dress and bowed her to watch the shimmering fabric on her arms. Her lady was not wrong, but women could be just as envious, perhaps more so than men. A jealous woman was a pit viper, hissing and biting at their prey until they froze up in terror. She understood her lady's frustration. Her father, Faeion, had immediately forbid her from courting with Legolas without so much as a second glance at her prince. _"He is a prince, yes, but is he as kind and noble as the rumors say? How will you know that he will not leave you for another?"_ He had said with an icy voice. Elves, for one, never left the other when they had found a worthy mate, but her father was a protective man and been cheated by death with his wife and her mother. She had kept telling herself one thing that day her father had rejected her prince's claim: _"Mother, if you hear me, change his mind… I beg it of you."_ Within two week's time, her father had changed his mind... After having a strange fever dream, mind you.

Coruwen's soft footsteps came to her hearing before she looked up. "We are going to go see Lord Erestor," Her lady said, offering her a hand. She did not ask why, but followed Coruwen down the long hallway to Erestor's library. Hithiel wandered around the vast, alabaster walled library to watch the fire shadows leap from one wall to another.

Lord Erestor's voice touched at her hearing, "Why are you in here?" He asked, deadpan. Hithiel smiled, she too found it funny when he asked even Nínim why they intruded into his library. "Wait, no, don't answer that. I know, Glorfindel sent you in here to bug me while he is training with the twins!"

"Valar no, Erestor," Coruwen answered back with an exasperated voice. "I would not _dare_ impede on your aloof nature and inability to socialize."

Hithiel dared to giggle so she turned to face a book lined wall and stared up at the ceiling. The ceiling was dark in every corner aside from the orange light that swirled into dancing girls, running wolves and racing horses, and the occasional roaring beast. She wondered what true dragonfire looked like. Glorfindel had told her that every dragon has a different color of fire. Freya's was amber like true flame, Nerthus had violet or black flame shot with either color, Zorya had green fire but she was so young it held no variety, and Freyr had crimson flame that was dreadfully hot. She had only beheld two of the four dragon children. From what their siblings had said, Zorya was a stubborn girl and Freyr was her counterpart, just as stubborn and one to hide behind his mother.

"Why would you ask such a thing of me?" Erestor's voice shattered her dreamy reverie, making her jump. "Your lord uncle often speaks to me, that is known, but why would you want me to tell you what he has said?

"Erestor, I beg of you, please tell me if he has told you _anything_ about Glorfindel or I," Her lady was desperate; no beyond desperate, her voice was shivering like icicles in a strong wind. Then there was a silence between the lord and lady that Hithiel found unsettling. She removed her gaze from the ceiling to glance over her shoulder at the wall of books guarding her view of the two.

"I… I suppose I could do little harm," Erestor murmured as Hithiel walked over to the edge of the bookcase. "He fears time will repeat itself, my lady. If either of you could prove to him that you are worthy of the other then by the luck of the One, he may grant you two able. I do not bear the same fear as your lord uncle, but I am not your guardian. In my personal opinion, Glorfindel is best suited with you. He keeps out of my way when he is with you and if he _does_ come in here, it's only to give my precious Snowdrop back to me."

"Uncle fears that he and I will hurt each other?" Coruwen stumbled back into the bookcase, shaking her head. "But then why would he entrust Glorfindel with finding me?"

Erestor shook his head, "I have no idea. Your lord uncle is a tricky man, and often keeps to himself save a few times he has spoken with me or Thranduil."

"But _why?"_

Hithiel stepped forward, and murmured, "I feel it is because he trusts Glorfindel to fix what has been wronged. Maybe it I because I always thought love could be reforged like a blade." Coruwen blinked, doe-eyed. Hithiel's stomach twisted, but she continued on, "No doubt, your uncle sees the love you two have, but is simply protective like my own father."

The two stared at her, both somehow dumbfounded and lost for words. A loud crack startled the three of them into looking to the door. Nínim sat beside the door when one of the twins burst through the door. Hithiel had no idea how to tell the twins apart, but surely Coruwen and Erestor could when their voices returned.

"You three must see this, now," The twin said, his voice nearly gone. They all shared a look and then started after the twin. Hithiel was lead outside to the entrance of Imladris where before her stood a great beast, scaled and the color of polished emeralds. His eyes were like pale lanterns that flicked across the clearing where many elves stood, staring up at him. His wings shaded them from the overcast sky and they covered the clearing, but in flight could cover a medium holdfast.

"Heimdall!" Coruwen shouted over the dragon's growl. His yellow eyes flicked down to her and his lips curled in a faulty smile. He lowered his head down to her and purred like an overgrown kitten as Coruwen wrapped her arms around his snout. _So this is the King of Dragons,_ she thought as Coruwen dropped a kiss onto the dragon's nose like a mother would to a child. He was big, bigger than any fell beast or elephant that her beloved had told her of. Heimdall could eat a war elephant whole if he wanted. "Why have you come?"

The dragon spoke an in strange language to her, and as he spoke Coruwen clutched the rosy scale at her throat that Hithiel knew she never removed.

"To speak to them, you must possess the writ of speech," Erestor's voice came in her ear. She arched her back like a cat, afraid of his voice. "Coruwen is the only one able to speak to Heimdall without the normal protocol." When she tossed a glance back at him, he held his gaze on the King. "We all should be bowing if Coruwen were not present."

"It is a sign of great disrespect if you do not do so," Glorfindel's voice said. She turned her gaze back at him, seeing his sword flicker in her side vision. "Smaug nearly ate me when I did not heed his command."

"We _all_ are lesser to him?" Her voice came as a squeak and she huddled back toward Erestor and Glorfindel. Coruwen spoke hurriedly to the dragon and he watched her beneath him, tail swishing and eyes calculating. "What is that language?"

"Draconic," Erestor tilted his head, listening to Coruwen. "The command language at that." Hithiel did not know what the _command_ language was, but it was beautiful beyond words. It flowed like Quenya did, a smooth language but it resounded far more clearly. It was like the strong ring of a tower bell as Coruwen spoke, and it was like sweet honey as well. "There are two variations of Draconic; command and natural. I have no records of how it is used, but from what Coruwen told me it is decided upon by the first speaker."

If she understood it correctly, then Heimdall chose to speak the command language first and Coruwen followed suit. She shook her head, not understanding. One day she might, but not now.

~.~.~

Coruwen stroked Nínim's back all the way down to the tip of her fluffy tail. The cat was handling her quite well despite Nínim's habits for biting and clawing. She was relishing in the heat of the fire on her feet as she lounged on a pile of cushions. Her eyes were held on the fire hearth, embers flickering black and orange and burned the colors into her eyes like scars.

Her mind kept drawing back to Heimdall. Her King, the only king she knelt to since Thorin, had come to her with news of Freya and the dragonlings. Freya had sensed her misfortune many weeks ago, and sent Heimdall to check on her. She had told him that she was not an elfling and to tell Freya that she would visit her soon, or the other way around… Her mind skipped out when she saw him honestly. _"My Fire-Scale worries about her Dear One, little elleth."_ Heimdall had said. She had said that the queen had the right to worry, but that right has long since passed. Heimdall had simply huffed out mist at that answer, calling her cheeky. A smile creased her features and she tweaked one of Nínim's ears.

She turned away from the glowing hearth when the sound of thunder rumbled overhead. Nínim's ears flattened against her skull. She hushed the feline, and rolled onto her knees to look out the window. The world was shrouded by black and she could hear the thrum of rain on the glass, the gentle patter of the drops hitting leaves and dropping to the ground. A mew drew her gaze back to Nínim, who perched herself on the edge of the cushions with ears erect and body still like water. Her eyes rose to a shadow in her doorway.

"_Laurëfindel,_" Coruwen called as she rolled back onto the cushions and took Nínim into her lap once more. Her lord appeared in her view. He moved far more loudly than she would have thought of him as he approached. She stared to rise to greet him, but he held up a hand to stop her. He sank down to her level and greeted with a swift kiss on the lips that made her blush. "You are in high spirits this evening."

"Yes, I am, dear," He answered with a smile. She sat up, and wrapped an arm around his waist. She hissed, he was cold and wet! A mischievous grin broke out on his face and he pushed her down beneath him, looking into his eyes. His wet hair bit at her face as he bent and kissed her. Her heart beat dreadfully loud in her ears, and her mind tried to piece together his behavior.

"Glorfindel, you are wet – get off of me," She said in a stern voice a she wiggled beneath him. Her legs kicked and slammed into his hip and he yelped, rolling off of her. Her nerves leapt in her mind and hands as she sat up, looking over at him. Her voice came as a whisper as she crawled over to him with her hands running over his hip. "Dear, i apologize – I had no idea."

"I'm fine," He managed as his hand covered his right hip. He sat up, the pain from her misguided kick clear in his eyes. She truly felt terrible for kicking him, she had not meant it. Coruwen reached over and took his face in one hand when her eyes caught the sign of a dark mark on his collarbone. His robes were soaked through as well and his sword was strapped to his uninjured side.

"Truly? Then why did you cry out in pain like an injured hound when I kicked you?" She pointed out, motioning to his hip that he fiercely guarded. His dark blue eyes shut and turned toward to the hearth. She peeled back the soaked, cream robe and saw a vertical bruise on his collarbone. Her gaze thinned, "What did you do?"

"I did nothing," His eyes flicked down to her hand and he swatted her hand away. Her eyes widened in disbelief. He looked to have gotten in a fight with a tree or a stick. He shifted uneasily under her gaze.

"Take off your robes; you will make yourself cold with them on." He eyed her and then the door. "You aren't an elfling, figure it out."

"I don't know, some days it varies," A pillow was flung at him and he laughed merrily at the gesture. She crossed the room, shutting the door while ignoring his quips. Some of them were how she was like his mother and the others blurred together when she heard the thunder boom overhead. Turning, she saw him in the fire light. His skin was still covered by the remnants of rain water to the point where the light danced across his skin. Thankfully, his breeches were not as soaked as his robes were, she thought. He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Gawking never gets anyone anywhere."

"I have the right, you know."

He scoffed lightly as she approached him and ran her fingers across his bruised skin. Purplish lines lay on his hips, collarbone, and on his left side. Her lord was right handed. He had gotten into some sort of skirmish, the idiot. He tensed under her touch when she ran her fingers over his side.

"Who did you fight?" Coruwen asked in a light tone when she raised her gaze to his face. His noble features turned sullen for a moment. She took his face in her hands and kissed him. Pulling away, she whispered, "Tell me, or I will force it out of you."

"Your lord uncle," Came his answer, low and hushed. She released his face, taking a step back. She wanted to ask why, but the words stuck in her throat. Her uncle fought with a spear rather than a sword, but he had not fought for several years, not since the Battle of Dol Guldur. But, it did explain why Glorfindel had the vertical marks on his body. Training spears were blunted and when they met their opponent they had a knack for leaving bruises. Coruwen slid her hands down his chest to touch a bruise at his side.

"Need I ask why?"

"You might, it is rather important."

She tilted her head to the side. Why did he sound happy? Perhaps he was playing with her, she thought. Her hands ran across his body, making him tense and gasp in pain when she pressed on the various bruises and angry, red marks. She kept her touch light, and her mind started to wander a bit, thinking that one day they might do this without the angry scars from her uncle's spear. His hands slipped around her waist causing her to stiffen.

"Go on," Her voice a whisper as she pressed her fingers to his skin.

His thumbs rubbed slow circle into her back. Her heart picked up its pace in her chest, but she ignored its pining. "I fought with your uncle today. I was growing tired of him ignoring the two of us, so he asked me to fight him for your hand. I gave him several good bruises no doubt; he and I matched each other. What I found peculiar was that he laughed and said I had done well before granting me what I hunted after." She turned her gaze up to him and her breath was swept from her lungs. His fingers tipped up her chin, "You and I are courting, dear."

No words came, only a strangled mew that was her voice. Without the ability to speak, she leaned against his chest to hear his heart. It was fast, a welcoming sound that resounded in her ears. Strange how her lord could strong arm her lord uncle into something as this. Glorfindel did not speak when he picked her up in his arms and laid her on the cushions before settling next to her. In her heart, she was happy and upset and confused, a myriad of emotions all swirling within her like a maelstrom that made her unable to speak.

"Coruwen?" His voice made her look to him. She twirled a strand of her hair in worry, but his hand came up and stopped her movements. "Are you upset?"

Coruwen shook her head. Upset was not the word, she was happy, elated even. His eyes watched her as she swallowed hard. "I am not upset, dear," She said at last as her voice returned. "Is shocked the correct term? I cannot see my uncle doing such a thing."

"He did," Her newly intended rolled onto his back with eyes still trained on her. "I'm shocked you are speechless as you are."

"I'm not the same woman I once was, Glorfindel."

"Yes, but you could be at least happy." She frowned and hovered over him. A soft smile creased her face and she kissed his cheek. She _was_ happy, but her shock overwhelmed that happiness like one smothers a fire. "Oh, so you are happy."

"You perceive my emotions wrongly, my lord," She nestled herself against his side, resting her head on his shoulder. "I am happy, but I was simply shocked."

His answer to her words was a muffled "I see" into her hair. She moved her head once more when she could not rest comfortably beside him. He groaned in disapproval when she wiggled once more. His arm reached out and wrapped around her hips, pulling her snug against his side. For all of his playfulness and seemingly silly behavior, when he was tired, he did not approve of her moving about like a squirming child.

For a long while, his grip around her was tight in an almost protective fashion until she heard and felt his breathing change. With slow grace, she pulled herself up into a sitting position. Coruwen often had been intrigued by his hair, a dim gold color like pale, beaten gold. As she ran her fingers through it, she saw him turn away from her touch. She thought that one day they would have elflings of their own with either the pale gold of his line or the sun gold of her line. But she cast such thoughts aside, they seemed childish and it was a though that saddened her. All those years ago with Thorin, she had thought of such ideas, only for them to be crushed by Azog and Bolg. Then a thought struck her like the deathly toll of a bell, her heart did not shudder at the thought of Thorin. She had let him rest, finally.

"You sing when you are happy," Glorfindel's sleepy voice startled her and his hand tightened around her hips. She blinked back at him, doe-eyed and oblivious that he had been awake for a few moments.

"Do I?" Coruwen asked, a bit bewildered.

"What were you thinking about?" He asked, shutting his eyes. She leaned back and kissed him. He stiffened at the contact as her hands pressed against his chest.

Pulling away, she whispered against his lips, "How much I love you."

A smile broke out onto his face and his eyes opened. "And I love you as well, my dear."

* * *

_My goodness, I am so sorry that this is a week late! I was camping plus school makes a chapter in such long length freakin difficult to write up. I also blame George R.R Martin's Books, A Song of Ice and Fire, i've gotten sucked into them in a bad way. (You may also have seen that i changed my PenName to FlameAngel. I got tired of typing out hyphens and long words... plus they gave the option.) _

_Anyway, have I stressed to you all about how much I love reviews? They're like brownies or cookies, you cant have just one. So Please, pretty please, give me one? _

_Final two chapters are coming up! And Until next time, may you many adventures! -FlameAngel _


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